








THE l.iSf^ARY *»E 
GOriGRESS, 

Two CoHiea* Receives 

MAY. 5 1902 

CC«^RI«HT entry 

THa^S, f9ot^ , 

CLASS ^XXc. No. 

COPY e. 


Copyright 1902, 
by 

THE 

Bbbcg ipre00 


CONTENTS. 


aHAPTER PAGE 

I. In which the reader is taken to a goodly land, and intro- 
duced to pleasant company 5 

II. A midnight alarm 15 

III. Swift retribution follows a fearful crime 19 

IV. The old widow tells a plain unvarnished tale 29 

V. A grievous mistake having been made, certain well disposed 

persons do their endeavor to rectify it 39 

VI. “ The moon’s on the lake, and the mist on the brae ; 

And the clan has a name that is nameless by day.” 47 

VII. Young Mr. Templeton sallies forth to uphold the majesty of 
the law, but comes near forgetting the errand upon which 

he is bent 55 

VIII. In which there is great cry, and little wool 64 

IX. Pete Kinchen goes in quest of his mother’s cow ; and finds 

what he was not looking for 73 

X. Betty Hightower’s husband has a pleasant confab with the 

sheriffs wife 84 

XI. Lawyer Palaver gives vent to righteous indignation ; and 

Lawyer Slowboy hooks a client for the firm 89 

XII. There being undue excitement in the public mind the case of 
the State versus Ankerstrom is continued to the following 
term 99 

XIII. Young Mr. Templeton changes his mind when out of humor, 

and reverts to his former opinion when cheerfulness is 
restored 110 

XIV. Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, and Matilda the housemaid, have a 

singular experience with a Bible agent 123 

XV. Some jolly good fellows meet at the tavern ; and the case of 

the State versus Ankerstrom is again called in court 134 

XVI. There being undue excitement in the public mind a change of 
venue is granted in the Ankerstrom case. An old farmer 
rides out of town on a young lady’s horse, and thereby adds 
to the excitement in the public mind 146 


3 


Contents. 


4 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVII. In which the reader is introduced to two cave dwellers, 

not of the pre-historic kind 159 

XVIII. The exuberant fancy of Sam Quackenboss brings him 
into trouble ; and the old farmer delivers a free lecture 

to a select audience 168 

- — ^ XIX. The old farmer attends a business meeting of the K. K. K., 

and hears something not to his advantage 180 

XX. The exciting adventure of Sam Quackenboss, and Mr. 

Hardrider, with two hobgoblins on the highway 189 

XXI. The Ankerstrom case is called in another county. Tlie 

judge ignores a powerful affidavit, and the trial begins. 199 

XXII. Miss Sue Bascombe takes the stand, and there ensues a 


very learned argument on a very grave point 209 

XXIII. The judge sentences the prisoner to hang speedily ; but 

the latter grants himself a respite of a year or so 221 

XXIV. In which there is much rash counsel, and some sage coun- 
sel, followed by a prudent conclusion 228 


XXV. Lawyer Slowboy displays great shrewdness at the horse 

market ; and then calls upon a lady acquaintance 235 

XXVI. Mr. Slowboy travels a lonely road by night, and soon finds 


himself in decidedly queer company 246 

XXVII. Mr. Bob Lee Templeton distinguishes himself at the wood- 

pile 264 

XXVIII. The case of the State versus Ankerstrom is heard in the re- 
vising court, and the wisdom of the ancients is upheld. 276 

XXIX. Which tells of a carousal at the jail ; and a soberer gather- 
ing in the wood 287 


XXX. The ungentlemanly behavior of Alabama Sam, and de 

little ole white man, at the abode of Patsy Kinchen . . . 297 

XXXI. An intrepid lad, and his dog, having tramped all their 

lives for nothing, concluded to tramp a while for pay. , 304 
XXXII. Terrific combat in the cavern betwixt Pete Kinchen, 


Jineral Beauregard, and de little ole white man 313 

XXXIII. Which tells how a young lady took a horseback ride, and 

made a murderous assault on a poor old beggar 323 

XXXIV. A second trial of the A.nkerstrom case in the inferior court 
results in a hung jury. Lawyer Palaver takes a drink * 

with an agreeable young gentleman 333 

XXXV. A noted individual shuffles off this mortal coil, and leaves 

the world none the poorer 341 

XXXVI. The prompter rings his little bell, and the curtain falls 349 


PREFACE. 

Few thoughtful persons in this country can have failed to note 
the rapid growth of mob law among us in the. last few years. For- 
merly the punishment of offenders was left to the courts, and ille- 
gal violence in the name of justice never resorted to except when 
some deed of peculiar atrocity stirred an entire community to 
frenzy. Now human beings are frequently sent out of the world 
by hastily assembled crowds of men, not only in open defiance of 
the authorities, but often where the offense charged would not be 
punishable with death under the law. In one recent instance — 
where a flagrant outrage had been committed — excited citizens 
in a Western State burned a captive at the stake, thus introducing 
into a Christian land a practice which had previously been known 
only among the most cruel savages. 

That this oft-repeated assumption of authority on the part of 
irresponsible persons is calculated to bring reproach on us as a 
people cannot be denied, and the time has come when serious 
inquiry should be made into, the causes back of this rapidly grow- 
ing evil, with a view to staying its further progress if possible. 
Having been the judge of a criminal court for a number of years, 
I have become convinced that the only reason why good citizens 
countenance mob violence is that they have lost faith in the ability 
of the courts to deal effectually with crime. They weary of the 
delay attending criminal prosecutions, and the frequent failure of 
justice in the end exasperates them. If we would put a stop to il- 
legal executions we must radically amend our criminal statutes 
so as to make it possible to try an accused person speedily in the 
court house before a jury of the best men in the community, and 
to punish him, if proven guilty, within a very short time after the 
commission of his crime. 

The present story was written primarily for the purpose of 
tracing the progress of a grave criminal trial through the courts, 
and showing how wearisome and exasperating such a proceeding 
must be to those deeply interested in the suppression of crime and 

3 


4 


Preface. 


the preservation of order in a community. I have endeavored to 
make my characters true to life, and to frame a story which — 
though it contained a moral — would not be without interest to the 
general reader. Not being an author by trade, I have not been 
able to impart to my work that finish it might have possessed if it 
had come from more skilful hands, but I send it forth without 
apology, hoping it may find some friends among the millions of 
readers in this country, and be productive in the end of some good. 


POSTSCRIPT. 

This book was finished, and the above preface written, a year 
ago. Since then capital punishment has been inflicted in this 
country upon scores of alleged criminals without warrant of law. 
Many captives have been burned at the stake, one recently in my 
own State with barbarity too shocking to relate. Since this book 
went into the hands of the printer, in my own State a young white 
man charged with a heinous crime was taken to the woods by a 
mob, and hung. His captors denied his request to be permitted 
to tell his widowed mother good-by. They denied him a drink 
of water under the gallows. With jeers and insults they hung 
him by the neck until he was dead, and it is now well established 
in that community not only that this young man was innocent of 
any grave crime, but that no grave crime had been committed at 
all. Surely it is time to enquire whether alleged criminal of- 
fenses can be investigated by no better method than a hasty up- 
rising of citizens at midnight. 

Only a few weeks since, in the State of New York, in the midst 
of a dense throng, a treacherous and cowardly assassin mur- 
dered the head of the nation. The deed was dastardly and 
atrocious beyond precedent, yet the wretch who perpetrated it 
was delivered to the officers of the law, and taken to prison. 
Within one week from the death of his victim he was arraigned 
in court charged with murder. In less than forty-eight hours he 
was tried and convicted, and the death penalty was imposed upon 
him. Such despatch would not be possible in every grave case, 
but if there could be as a rule anything like an approach to it we 
would soon hear the last of mob law in this country. 


5 




THE K. K. K. 


CHAPTER 1. 

IN WHICH THE READER IS TAKEN TO A GOODLY LAND AND INTRO- 
DUCED TO PLEASANT COMPANY. 

If you ever take occasion to descend the Cumberland River by 
steamer from Nashville, Tennessee, you will observe on the right 
bank of that picturesque stream, not far from the rapids called 
Harpeth Shoals, a rolling tract of highlands extending for some 
distance along your route, and stretching as far back into the in- 
terior as the eye can reach. This highland territory is known to 
the dwellers within its borders, and the good folk of the re- 
gion roundabout, as ‘‘ The Marrowbone Hills.” It embraces 
a considerable expanse of country, but as it recedes north- 
ward!}^ narrows some distance out from the river into a long and 
precipitous neck of upland, which for some mysterious reason 
has been dubbed “ Paradise Ridge.” I say for some mysterious 
reason this rugged elevation has been so designated, but the old 
settlers thereabouts will tell you that the ‘‘ movers ” trekking from 
Carolina and Virginia, a hundred years ago, and encountering 
this formidable obstacle in their path, named it ” Paradise Ridge ” 
in fine scorn. Lumbering farm wagons, often a dozen or more 
together, constituted the transportation trains of that early period, 
and to surmount this frowning barrier with such a vehicle, well 
laden with wife, children, and household goods, was a feat scarcely 
paralleled by the notable one of Bonaparte’s crossing the Alps. In 
spite of vigorous application of the lash, and the liberal use of pro- 
fanity, the desperate teams often stalled here on the upward 
climb, and when the summit at last was reached and the descent 
on the opposite side begun, the situation was found to be changed 
by no means for the better. 


5 


Notwithstanding locked wheels and constant tugging against 
the breeching on the part of the hindmost mules, the conveyance 
nov/ went forward at headlong rate, bumping against huge boul- 
ders, and scattering the fearful housewife’s plunder, with now 
and then a few of the children, promiscuously along the route. 
Oftentimes spokes and tires were smashed, axles broken, or 
tongues shattered, and it took days to mend up and start afresh 
on the journey to a new home in the wilderness. All this was in 
the good old times that we dream so fondly about, and which no- 
body in his senses would like to have restored. The railroad from 
St. Louis to Nashville now cleaves in twain this exasperating Par- 
adise Ridge, and the sleepy traveler may glide smoothly down 
from Ridgetop to Baker’s, at the foot, without ever being 
aroused from his nap. 

The Marrowbone Hills, however, lie back of the narrow ridge 
just described, which stretches out from among them like the 
crooked handle of a gourd. The hill country proper is a pleasant 
land, where moderate heights and fertile valleys, wooded tracts, 
cleared fields, and running waters greet the eye of the traveler 
in agreeable diversity. The soil, even on the steep hillsides, yields 
a fair return to honest labor, and the atmosphere, owing to the 
general elevation of the country, is bracing and healthy nearly 
all the year round. The plain farmer folk who till the earth and 
spend their days here seldom achieve, or aspire to, great wealth, 
but they constitute a manly class, who hold their heads up, and 
generally manage — as they themselves frequently boast — to get 
through life without begging, borrowing or stealing. 

Close to the borders of this hill region may be seen a singular 
succession of high conical mounds, called knobs ; and beyond these 
stretches a broad, level expanse of country as productive and 
beautiful to the eye as ever the crow flew over. In this lowland 
territory the dwellers are more pretentious than on the hills, and 
the soil for the most part is cultivated by negroes. These, as else- 
where at the South, constitute a class to themselves, and would 
prove more satisfactory as laborers but for their unfortunate pro- 
pensity to shift their dwelling-places with a frequency that is dis- 
couraging to the landowner, and oftentimes baffling to the would- 
be collectors of poll-tax. As it is, the relation between the two 
races is by no means unkindly, though the negroes are a little too 
suspicious of the good intentions of the whites, and the latter, as 
a rule, too prone to charge up to the inferior race all offenses of 


A Goodly Land and Pleasant Company. 7 

whatever description that cannot be immediately traced to some 
other source. 

At the time when my story begins — for I may as well confess 
now to the gentle reader that it is my purpose to inflict upon him 
a narrative in which fact is more or less mingled with fiction — 
there stood within the confines of the hill country, but not far from 
the oorder line, the substantial log house of an old woman who 
had dwelt there in peace and comparative comfort nearly all her 
days. She owned a snug little farm about her home, or, rather, 
had a life interest in the property, for the fee at her death vested 
in her granddaughter, a comely girl of some eighteen years, who 
dwelt with her. The old lady, Mrs. Susan Bascombe, was alto- 
gether illiterate, but honest, independent, courageous beyond most 
of her sex, and possessed of a fund of native good sense which 
stood her often in hand when mere “ book Tarnin’ ” would have 
been of no avail. She was quite an original character — this 
Widow Bascombe, as she was usually called — decidedly sharp- 
tongued when she fancied occasion demanded, but as a general 
thing kindly in her deportment toward others, and very popular 
with her neighbors. 

Her granddaughter and namesake was, I make bold to say, 
as handsome and spirited a damsel as could have been found 
within the length and breadth of the Marrowbone Hills, or, for 
that matter, within the whole country far and near, without re- 
striction of territory. The father and mother of the girl had both 
died when she was a wee thing, and left her to the care of the old 
lady, who had raised her, and endeavored to train her up in the 
way she should go. As she grew to womanhood the neighbors 
about did not fail to note that she had inherited from her grand- 
mother a tall and shapely person, and that she resembled the old 
widow also in being the possessor of a strong character, of which 
self-reliance constituted the principal trait. In one particular the 
girl bad decidedly the advantage of the elder female, and that was 
in the matter of education. She had trotted back and forth as a 
child to the rough log school-house in her neighborhood — wagging 
often under a load of books that would have borne her down if 
she had not been strong for her years — and had so acquired smat- 
tering information upon many subjects and genuine knowledge 
of a few. She was quick witted, like her grandmother, and very 
ambitious, so that the pupil who stood above her in her classes 
was required to rise early and retire late. At this backwoods insti- 


8 


The K. K. K. 


tute little Sue Bascombe, having no sensational novels to devour, 
acquired a taste for solid reading, which she afterward cultivated 
at home in the midst of increasing household duties. By the time 
she had donned long skirts and abandoned her school satchel she 
was quite a superior sort of young person, mentally as well as 
physically, and could more justly have been deemed thoroughly 
accomplished than many a graduate from a famed city academy. 

The house where the two . omen dwelt was a double log struc- 
ture with an open passageway between the lower rooms, such as 
are still quite common in that part of the country. It was a story 
and a half high, and the two contracted apartments above were 
used, the one as a general lumber room, the other as a snug dor- 
mitory, where the grateful wayfarer was allowed to repose in a 
fat feather bed, with about six inches of breathing space betwixt 
his nose and the well-seasoned rafters overhead. The genteel 
room of the mansion was below and across the open passageway 
from that occupied by the widow and her granddaughter. This 
special company room* had great brass dog-irons on the hearth, 
in the well-scrubbed knobs of which one might detect his own 
countenance dancing about when the fire* was briskly ablaze. 
There was a high-post bed here, with a canopy overhead, which 
was seldom occupied, and indeed was kept more for ornament than 
utility. A young man of scholastic attainments and solemn de- 
meanor boarded with the family during the pedagogic months of 
the year; but though he was permitted to use the company room 
for chat and study during his sojourn, he was required always to 
betake himself to die cuddy apartment upstairs when bedtime 
came. He was now absent upon his summer vacation, whiling 
away the time with some distant relatives who had consented to 
supply him with food and lodging for the benefit of his society. 

The schoolmaster being away, the old ladv and her grand- 
daughter were left alone in the house, but they were not apprehen- 
sive of danger or specially lonely, for they were not timid, and 
had come to derive a good deal of comfort from each other’s so- 
ciety. Besides, there were kindly neighbors scattered around 
them, and visits from one or more of these was an almost daily 
occurrence. On the widow’s farm, about a half-mile from the 
dwelling, a negro named Sandy Kinchen lived in a single-room 
cabin with his wife and one child. His closest friend was a little 
dog of the fox terrier variety, and the general opinion in regard 
to them both was that they were no better than they should be. 


A Goodly Land and Pleasant Company. 9 

Thx3 Kinchcn, with his dog his heels, would tramp the country 
all night in search of ’coons and ’possums, or on worse business, 
but could seldom be induced to tread a corn furrow or tobacco 
row by day with the view of paying his rent or earning a support 
for his family. He was indeed a worthless fellow, and little 
t-iought of by the neighbors, many of whom expressed surprise 
that the old widow would suffer him to loaf about on her premises. 
Leaving his laziness out of the question, however, no worse was 
suspected of him as yet than that he cherished an undue fondness 
for watermelons not grown in his own patch and chickens that 
roosted away from his wife’s henhouse. 

At the time of the year which I write — it was an evening in 
early June — the leaves on the trees had but recently come to full 
growth, and there was a newness and freshness about the verdure 
everywhere that presently would be dulled by the scorching heat 
of summer and the dust from the roads and fields. The sun had 
just disappeared behind the crest of a high hill that loomed up 
immediately back of the old farmhouse, and a deep shadow had 
crept across the yard and was now encroaching upon a little 
piece of meadow land that lay in front beyond the highway. Sue 
Bascombe had stood for some minutes in the open doorway of the 
family room, looking down the road toward the level country, as if 
she expected some one to approach from that direction. Near 
the center of the room her grandmother sat in a split-bottomed 
chair smoking a cob pipe. Early as the hour was the two had 
supped, and all evidences of the evening meal had been cleared 
away. The girl stood in the open doorway with her arms folded 
and her head resting carelessly against the framework on her 
right. vShe was trim and square-shouldered, with a good suit of 
black hair and eyes to match. A stranger could not have failed 
to notice the striking resemblance between herself and grand- 
mother, notwithstanding the great disparity in their ages. 

“ You needn’t look so hard. Sue,” remarked the old lady, re- 
moving the pipe from her mouth as she spoke. “ Looking won’t 
fetch him, child.” 

“ I’m not trying to fetch him,” answered the girl, with a trace 
of resentment at the insinuation. ‘‘ If he doesn’t want to come he 
can stay away.” 

The old woman laughed. Somebody would have a fit of the 
blues if he did,” she replied, and began sucking at her pipe- 
stem again. 


10 


The K. K. K. 


The girl made no answer. Her grandmother smoked on in 
silence a while longer. Then she continued between whiffs : 
“ Wal, wal, honey, I ain’t a blamin’ you for bein’ a little anxious. 
I ’members the time when I’d a been anxious too ef my beau 
hadn’t turned up jess at the very minute he sot. Gals is gals ; gals 
is gals.” 

” I’m not anxious, Granny,” remarked the young lady in the 
doorway. 

“ Naw, you ain’t, and yit you is. Wal, wal, I used to be a gal 
myself, and I finds fault with no person for bein’ a gal. Times 
has changed though sence I was a gal. Laws a mussy, jess to 
think how times has changed. The Pearsons, they used to be reg- 
ular highflyers, and your grandpappy, you know, he was a over- 
seer ” 

“ I hope he was a good one,” interjected Sue, who had family 
pride of the right sort. 

” That’s what he was,” replied thQ old woman promptly. “ He 
was giv’ up to be the best in all the country. Up and down, fur 
and wide, there wa’n’t no better overseer than Lemuel Bascombe, 
and them that says to the contrary tells what ain’t so. Times has 
changed though, as I was a sayin’ ; times has changed. Laws a 
mussy, jess to think of it! This here world moves round and 
round ; and some goes up while some comes down. That’s a true 
word as ever was spoke. Your grandpappy, Lemuel Bascombe — 
folks called him Lem for short — used to oversee for Ran Pear- 
son’s daddy. That was in the old times, child, the old times. One 
lived at the big house then and t’other at the quarter. I remember 
it all as well as if it had been yistiddy. Mighty stuck up, I tell you, 
was ole Miss Pearson, Ran’s •mammy ; mighty -stuck up ; mighty 
stuck up. When she driv by in her carriage she hilf her head high, 
and was jess as like not to speak to a body as. to speak. Proud she 
was, I tell you, and her ways was ways of grondeur. That was 
in the long time ago, and now here’s her own dear son a hitchin’ 
his hoss at my gate, and a cornin’ in to keep company with my 
granddarter. Wal, wal; will wonders never cease?” 

“ He needn’t come. I’m sure, unless he wants to,” retorted Miss 
Sue, tossing her head. 

“Mighty uppish, mighty uppish,” replied old Mrs. Bascombe, 
surveying her granddaughter, however, with considerable pride 
as she spoke. “ Wal, wal ; we’ll let bygones be bygones — that’s 
the best way. Ran Pearson is a clever fellow, Sue ; and it never 


A Goodly Land and Pleasant Company. ii 

hurt anybody yit that he come of a good fambly. Even a dog of 
good breed is better’n a low down cur. Ran is a gentleman, a 
gentleman born, and a gentleman in his ways, and them what says 
to the contrary tells what ain't so. To be sho, to be sho, he’s git- 
tin’ along now to be considerable of a old bachelor, considerable 
of a old bachelor, but he carr’t help that.” 

“ He’s not forty yet,” replied the girl. 

“ Ef he ain’t,” replied the old woman, “ he’s so nigh thar ain’t 
no fun in it. Lemme see,” taking her pipe from her mouth to 
reflect, “ come, thirty-nine year next November — or was it thirty- 
eight ? But that’s neither here nor thar. Ran is old enough to be 
stiddy, and yit he ain’t hurt with age. That much anybody can say 
for him and tell no lie. He hain’t put on specks yit, and he’s 
still supple in his j’ints; but he’s gittin’ along, gittin’ along. Ran 
is. Ef him and a right spry young chap was sparkin’ the same 
gal. I’m afraid he’d git left ; but when it’s a race ’twixt him and a 
poke-easy fellow like the schoolmarster — I’ll lay my last dollar on 
Ran” 

“ The schoolmarster, fiddlesticks,” rejoined the young lady im- 
patiently. ‘‘ Who’s thinking of him ? ” 

“ Ah, never mind, never mind,” answered the old woman. “ I 
tell you what ” 

‘‘ What does he care for me. I’d like to know ? ” interrupted the 
girl. 

“ He cares a heap for you,” replied her grandmother, “ and 
you know it as well as you know you’re standin’ thar.” 

“ He wouldn’t give a page of his dry Latin and Greek for the 
best girl in Marrowbone Hills,” said Miss Sue. 

“ He’d put all his books in a pile and burn ’em for Sue Bas- 
combe; and you needn’t let on like you don’t think he would,” re- 
plied the old lady. 

“ He’s downright stupid,” cried Miss Sue from her place in the 
doorway. “ He’s stupid as an owl, for all he’s so dreadfully 
wise.” 

He’s a fine young fellow,” answered old Mrs. Bascombe, 
‘‘and the best gal in the country might be proud to git 
him.” 

“ I wouldn’t give a snap of my finger for him;” said Sue, suit- 
ing the action to the word, and snapping her middle finger sharply 
against her thumb. 

“ you mout go further and do wuss,” retorted the old woman, 


who never allowed herself to be worsted in debate if she could 
help it. 

What further would have followed between these two high-spir- 
ited females must forever remain a matter of conjecture, for at 
this moment the sound of a horse^s feet was heard up the road and 
the girl abruptly left the doorway. She lit a candle that stood on 
a little shelf against the wall — it was now growing dark in the 
room — and taking up a brush and comb began to arrange her hair. 
She did not need to primp much, for she had been expecting her 
visitor, but a few touches at the last moment are never out of 
place. The mirror before which she stood was an old-fashioned 
looking-glass, with two ships depicted at the top, sailing over a 
singularly blue sea. About half her figure was reflected in this, 
and she had no reason to be dissatisfied with the hurried inspection 
she took of her person. After a few moments spent in tidying, 
she blew out the candle, and, crossing the open passageway into 
the spare room, lit a lamp that stood on a center table there. The 
old woman, without invitation, arose and followed her. She was 
fond of company, and she didn’t believe in leaving unmarried peo- 
ple of different sexes to themselves. She took her seat in a large 
arm-chair by the lamp and began knitting industriously, rocking 
back and forth as she did so. Sue went to the window curtains 
and gave them a shake, though there wasn’t anything specially the 
matter with them. She then searched the corners of the room 
with a keen eye for cobwebs, but none were visible. A step was 
now heard in the passage, and afterward a rap on the bare floor, 
made with the heavy end of a riding-whip or the heel of a boot. 

“ Come in,” cried Sue. 

The visitor who entered at this invitation looked to be forty 
years of age, if he wasn’t. The hair on the summit of his head 
was decidedly thin, so much so that his pate glistened through it 
in places, but it could not be fairly said as yet that he was bald. 
His face was serious — a good, honest face, one would say — and 
in manner he was rather retiring. Indeed, there was a sort of stiff- 
ness about him as he returned their salutation, which indicated 
that he was not entirely at ease in company ; and this perhaps was 
the highest compliment he could have paid those on whom he had 
called. It was convincing proof that while the old woman might 
have considered it a half-condescension on his part to visit them, 
there was no such idea predominant in his own mind. Randolph 
Pearson always felt somewhat constrained in the presence of fe- 


13 


A Goodly Land and Pleasant Company. 

males, for he had never been a society man. His father had been 
wealthy, but extravagant, and the son at his death inherited from 
him a comparatively small patrimony. He had added to this ma- 
terially, however, by frugality, sobriety, and strict attention to his 
business, and by pursuing this course for a number of years had 
finally won for himself among the good ladies of the vicinity the 
double reputation of being a desirable catch and a confirmed old 
bachelor. He had begun casting a wistful eye upon the Bascombe 
girl while she was yet tramping to and from the country school- 
house, loaded down with books. When she grew up to be a 
young lady, and a handsome one to boot, he made bold to call 
upon her, and as this was a startling step for a man of his habits, 
his first visit set the tongue of rumor wagging in his neighborhood 
most industriously. 

Between two entertaining females Mr. Pearson managed on this 
occasion to while away the time quite agreeably. He discoursed 
with the old lady about the best method of protecting her fowls 
from varmints, and the safest preventive against the ravages of 
the potato bug in the garden. He listened politely while she in- 
dulged in reminiscences of the days when, her husband — Lem Bas- 
combe, folk called him — was overseer for his father. 

“ Terbacker brought better figgers them times than nowadays. 
All you had to do was to haul it to the river, and it floated down 
natural to New Ileens. Now it’s got to be loaded on the steam 
cars, and drug across the country away off to New Yark, and 
that costs money. Three acres of terbacker them times was a 
average crop for a field hand, and he had to tend it or take the 
consequences. Now, bless yo<ur life, niggers is too genteel to sile 
thar fingers with suckers and horn worms. ’Stidder puttin’ in 
thar best licks on the farm, they go trapesing about with guns, 
shootin’ rabbits, and plottin’ all manner of devilment agin the 
whites.” 

Miss Sue was a party to much of the above promiscuous talk, 
occasionally agreeing with her grandmother, sometimes taking 
issue with her stoutly. Now and then a subject was sprung where 
the discourse for a time was necessarily between the damsel and 
her steady-going wooer, but on the whole it would have been dif- 
ficult to tell from the drift of the talk whether Pearson’s visit was 
to the old lady, the young lady, or the family. He remained until 
nine o’clock — which is considered honest bedtime in the Marrow- 
bone Hills — and when he took his departure the girl accompanied 


14 


The K. K. K. 


him out to the stile block. There presumably they had some chat 
of a nature customary and proper between bachelor and maiden 
who contemplate establishing between themselves a firmer and 
more lasting union. Even this confidential confab, however, was 
of no great duration, and, after the lapse of a further half-hour, 
the visitor mounted and rode away. 

The girl stood at the fence till the sound of the horse’s feet had 
died away in the distance. Then she walked slowly back to the 
house. She fastened the windows down in the spare room, ex- 
tinguished the light and locked the door. This done, she crossed 
the passageway to the apartment occupied by herself and grand- 
mother. The old lady had preceded her and was now preparing 
for bed ; but the girl took her stand again in the open doorway, 
as she had done in the early evening. The night was pleasant, 
and not very dark. There were stars a plenty in the blue vault of 
the sky, but no moon. 


A Midnight Alarm. 


15 


CHAPTER IL 

A MIDNIGHT ALARM. 

The girl stood in the doorway and looked up at the sky and out 
into the dim night for some time. ‘‘Somehow, I feel lonesome 
to-night, Granny,” she said, after a while, without turning her 
head. “ I wonder what’s the matter with me ? ” 

“ Go to bed, go to bed,” said the old woman, “ and git up early 
in the mornin’, and let’s have breakfast betimes.” 

The girl made no reply, but continued looking out across the lit- 
tle meadow in front of the house. She could discern dim outlines 
beyond, but no objects could be distinguished. A screech owl, 
from a dead tree in the wood, set up its harrowing cry. 

“ Heigho,” said the girl, after a silence of some minutes, “ some- 
how I feel lonesome to-night.” 

“ Go to bed, go to bed,” repeated the old woman. “ Thar ain’t 
but two ways to drive off a lonesome feel. One is to drap off to 
sleep and furgit it ; t’other is to lay to and work like the mis- 
chief.” 

“ What was that Mr. Pearson said about the robbers breaking 
into Lipscombe’s house and stealing his watch and money ? ” 

“ He said they done it, that’s all.” 

“ Tramps? ” inquired the girl. 

“ Niggers,” answered the old woman. “ I know in reason they 
was niggers. In these parts they is gettin’ wuss and wuss. They 
always would take little things when nobody wa’n’t lookin’. Now 
they break in at night, and rob, and murder, and the Lord knows 
what. I dunno what the country is a cornin’ to.” 

“ It was last Saturday night, he said.” 

“ Yes, Sadday night, Sadday night. That’s the devil’s own 
night. Low-lived folks makes out to kinder behave theyselves 
during the week, but let Sadday night come, and they loads up on 
mean whisky and plays the wild. Whisky and the devil go to- 
gether, and have done so sence the world begun.” 


i6 


The K. K. K. 


“ This is Saturday night, Granny/’ 

“ So 'tis, so ’tis. I clean forgot. Wal, mark my words ; the 
next time you read your paper you’ll find whar some devilment’s 
been did to-night. Thar was Abe Standfield, for an insty, a ridin’ 
home on a Sadday night, and shot down dead from a cornder of 
the fence. Johnny Allbright was tuck up for it, and it went pooty 
hard with him.” 

“ Did they hang him ? ” 

“ Naw, naw ; naw, naw. They seesawed, and seesawed, ’twix’ 
courts and courts with him. They drug him here and thar, and 
lawyers, judges, witnesses and clerks, all sot on him more times 
’n I’ve got fingers and toes. They worried him till his head turned 
gray, and atter so long a time ’mongst hands of ’em they got all his 
money and turned him loose.” 

Is he dead now ? ” 

“ Dead, child, dead. I seed him atter he was laid away in his 
coffin, and thar wa’n’t none of the trouble in his face that they said 
the lawyers and judges had writ thar while he was passin’ through 
the deep waters. Dead and gone, dead and gone these many years 
is Johnny Allbright, like so many more I have know’d in this sor- 
rowful world.” 

The screech owl, from the dead tree in the wood, repeated its 
tremulous, plaintive cry again and again, again and again. 

“ Come to bed,” said the old woman, who had already lain down. 
** Ye ain’t a goin’ to stand thar all night, be ye, Sue? ” 

The girl stepped back into the room and closed the door. She 
undressed in a few minutes, knelt down and said her prayers, and 
retired for the night. There were two beds in the room. Her 
grandmother occupied one in a corner near the door, she the other 
on the opposite side of the room. By her bed was a window, 
which was often left open on sultry summer nights. The sash 
was raised now, but the blind was closed. 

The screech owl, from the dead tree in the wood, kept repeating 
its mournful cry. At regular intervals its pitiful plaint broke the 
stillness of the night again and again, again and again. 

I wish it would quit,” cried the girl after a while, in the dark- 
ness. She had been endeavoring in vain to compose herself to 
sleep. 

“ Some say the thing sees hants,” replied the old woman. “ For 
my part, I don’t believe in no sich. If livin’ folks will let me 
alone I ain’t afeered of the dead on®6.” 


A Midnight Alarm. 17 

“ It makes my flesh creep/’ said the girl, impatiently. “ I believe 
ril go out and shoo it away.” 

“ Go to sleep, go to sleep,” replied the old woman. “ Don’t be 
sheered out of your senses by a night bird. Screech owls has been 
hollerin’ around this house for thirty year and no harm ain’t befell 
us yit. 

The old woman dropped into a doze and then into profound 
slumber. The girl continued restless and wakeful in spite of her- 
self. She counted a hundred backwards, fixed her mind on un- 
interesting subjects, tried all the plans she had ever beard of for 
wooing sleep, but her faculties remained keenly alive to all that 
was passing about her. The night bird at last flew away. Its con- 
stantly recurring plaint came no more to startle her and banish re- 
pose from her pillow. Other sounds familiar to the night suc- 
ceeded, but these smote not so discordantly upon her ear. An old 
cow on a neighboring farm bellowed a long time, presumably 
for her missing calf. So far away was the sound that it was mel- 
lowed by distance, and, though vexed a little at first, she was 
finally soothed by it. Fainter and fainter grew the note, till now 
it died away entirely. Either the anxious call had ceased to float 
over field and timber land or the drowsy ear of the maiden had 
grown too dull to catch it. 

It was now past midnight, and the occupants of the old house 
were both asleep. In the immediate vicinity, and through all the 
region of the Marrowbone Hills, stillness reigned, broken only by 
the usual noise^ of the night. From some lonely farmhouse the 
hoarse bark of a watch-dog arose occasionally to warn unseen in- 
truders away. An old rooster, safely perched among the pullets 
in his henhouse, awoke, crew drowsily, and went to sleep again. 
A prowling fox near by turned his ear toward the inspiring note, 
hesitated a while, then trotted off down the deserted road, his 
stealthy footfall giving back no sound. Through all the region 
of the Marrowbone Hills almost unbroken stillness reigned. 

Suddenly, penetrating for a long distance the quiet of the night, 
the shrill cry of a human being arose. It roused in an instant all 
those upon whose startled ears it fell, for it was unmistakably the 
cry of a woman in distress. Many of those who heard it left their 
beds, and in more than one habitation opened their doors to listen. 
The note of alarm rose the second time, more vehemently than 
at first, but abruptly ended, as if cut short by some violent 
agency. 

2 


i8 


The K. K. K. 


Now the sky above the place from which the wild cry of distress 
had come began to glow faintly. Soon it became a dull red, then 
brightened, and all the heaven was lit. Long streaks of light 
climbed next toward the zenith, and a ruddy blaze leaped high 
amid a thick volume of ascending smoke. 

Those who had been called hurriedly from their beds were at no 
loss to determine the spot from which the flames arose. The 
old Bascombe house was on fire. 


Swift Retribution Follows a Fearful Crime. 19 


CHAPTER III. 

SWIFT RETRIBUTION FOLLOWS A FEARFUL CRIME. 

“ PIang him ! hang him ! hang him ! ” 

The captive negro struggled for a while in the midst of the 
crowd of infuriated white men. 'Then he paused and gasped for 
breath ; then, by a sudden wrench, jerked himself loose from the 
strong hand that had gripped his collar and fled into the darkness. 
Over the yard fence he leaped like a deer, down the road, then out 
across the meadow, scarcely touching the earth with his feet, he 
fled for his life. His wild burst of speed was vain, for the angry 
mob was at his heels, their determination to avenge as strong as his 
to escape. He had on no coat, but the foremost among his pur- 
suers seized his loose shirt and snatched him violently backward to 
the earth. 

He was a slim, black fellow, rather undersized, with low fore- 
head, and manifestly of no high order of intelligence. Whatever 
guilty impulse might have prompted him a few hours before, ab- 
ject terror alone possessed him now. Plis teeth chattered, his eye- 
balls seemed about to start from their sockets, and his hurried 
glance from side to side showed that he meditated another break, 
and another desperate rush for liberty, if the slightest opportunity 
should again be presented. 

It is wonderful how quickly news of a startling nature flies in 
a neighborhood where the means of communication are slight. 
Scarcely two hours had elapsed since the flames took possession 
of the Bascombe house, and now dozens of excited men were 
tramping the earth about the place, and more were coming in 
every minute. Those who first reached the spot after the alarm 
was given found the building nearly destroyed, and old Mrs. Bas- 
combe at some distance away, unconscious from a fearful wound 
on her head, but still alive. She had evidently been closer to the 
flames, for her lower limbs were badlv burned, and her nightgown 
had been partially consumed by fire. Plurried search was made 


20 


The K. K. K.' 


about the premises, and an ax was picked up with the blade all 
bloody. This, they made sure, was the weapon with which the 
fearful gash on the old woman's head had been inflicted. 

Sue Bascombe was by her grandmother's side when the first 
visitors reached the scene of the tragedy, and to these she related 
with singular calmness the startling incidents of the night. As 
she lay after midnight in light slumber, she was suddenly awak- 
ened by steps on the floor of the open passage between the two 
lower rooms of the house. The next moment, without prelimi- 
nary knock or demand for admittance, some heavy object was 
dashed violently against the door leading from the passage into 
the room which she and her grandmother occupied. There was a 
slight interval and then a second blow, more violent if possible 
than the first, was delivered. Old Mrs. Bascombe, who was un- 
commonly active for one of her years, arose and made for the door 
near her bed, which opened into the front yard. As the quickest 
method*of egress for herself the girl undid the bolt of the window 
close at hand and leaped through the open space into the back yard 
just as some one entered the room over the fragments of the shat- 
tered door. vShe saw at a glance the outlines of a man’s figure, 
but it was too dark to distinguish features. Not knowing how 
many others were behind the intruder, and supposing her grand- 
mother had escaped, she followed the instinct of self-preservation, 
and fled into the thick copse that covered the hillside behind the 
house. She ran in her bare feet over the rough stones, how far 
she hardly knew. Then she stopped for breath, and, as she did so, 
heard the old widow’s uplifted voice that alarmed the neighbor- 
hood. Without hesitation she started back to her relief. Then the 
second outcry arose, which was quickly suppressed, and for a 
time all about the house was still. The girl stole softly down 
the hill now, till she almost reached the yard fence. Flames from 
the burning house lit up the •space around ; she heard hurrying 
footsteps, voices, and the bark of a dog. Determined at all haz- 
ard to ascertain her grandmother’s fate, she ventured forward 
and found the old woman lying senseless on the ground a little 
way ofif from the burning dwelling. No one else was near, for 
thQ brutal assailants, whoever they were, had fled from the scene 
of the crime. 

This was the tale Sue Bascombe told to those who, roused by the 
fire and the wild cry in the night, hurried to her ruined home. She 
was herself barefooted and in her nightgown, but clothing was 


Swift Retribution Follows a Fearful Crime. 21 

soon brought for her from the house of the nearest neigh- 
bor. 

Old Mrs. Bascombe lay out in her yard, unconscious, and ap- 
parently near death’s door. They gave her whisky, sent off for 
a doctor, and applied such palliatives to her wounds as were at 
hand. Little else could be done, however, except to stanch the 
flow of blood from her head by liberal applications of cold water, 
and to lessen temporarily the pain of her burns by the use of wet 
bandages. Presently, under the influence of the liberal stimulants 
that had been administered, she began to revive. 

“Did they ketch him?” she cried suddenly, opening her eyes 
wide, and striving to rise. “ Whar’s Sandy Kinchen ? ” 

They crowded about her and listened for more, but the effort 
had exhausted her, and she sank into a stupor again. A man at 
her side took her by the arm and shook her rather roughly. She 
opened her eyes again and stared at him. He stooped down and 
asked in a loud voice though his face was close to hers : 

“ Say, do you hear me ? ” 

“ Yes,” she answered, staring blankly at him. 

“ Did you see Sandy Kinchen ? ” 

“ Hey ? ” 

He repeated the question, and she gazed at him for some mo- 
ments longer. Then she replied in a low tone, but distinctly ; 

“ Yas, I seen him.” 

“ Was he here? Is he the man that done this devilment? ” 

She had sunk into a stupor again. He shook her by the arm, 
but she made no answer. He shook her again more roughly, 
but she only uttered unintelligible words. 

“ Let her alone, let her alone,” cried those standing around. 
“ Don’t worry a dying woman. Hang the man that committed 
this outrage. Catch him and hang him.” 

Then another one of the crowd spoke up, addressing Sue Bas- 
combe : 

“ Did you say you heard the bark of a dog? ” 

“ Yes, I heard that,’.’ replied the girl. 

“ Was it Kinchen’s little dog? ” 

She hesitated and turned a little red in Ae face. “ I— I thought 
so,” she replied, “ but I will not say that.” 

“ Hang him, hang him, hang him ! ” now the cry arose on 
every hand. “ Hang the scoundrel that did this murder ! ” 

In a few minutes dozens of men were scouring the country for 


22 


The K. K. K. 


the negro tenant whose name the old woman had pronounced, 
and whose dog was known to be his close attendant upon all occa- 
sions. They went at once to the cabin where he dwelt, but he was 
not there. He had left soon after dark, his wife said, with the little 
dog, and she had not seen him since. Presently they came upon 
him hiding behind a tree, not far from the spot where the old 
woman lay. With blows and curses they dragged him to the 
scene of his crime. It was with difficulty that some of the more 
hasty among them were prevented from killing fiim on the way. 

The widow Bascombe was still in a stupor when they drew 
nigh. The doctor, who had just arrived, felt her pulse, and said 
she had but a brief while longer to live. Her breathing could 
scarcely be detected, and there was* no speculation in her wide- 
open eyes. Her ghastly wound and scorched limbs cried aloud 
for vengeance. 

The infuriated crowd pressed about the negro and strove to 
snatch him from the few having him in custody. “ Hang him, 
hang him, hang him ! ” cried a dozen voices at once. “ Burn him, 
burn him ! ” demanded others. “ Throw him into the old house 
and burn him to death ! ” 

“ Ho-ho-hole on, gin’lemen ! ” exclaimed the shaking culprit, as 
the yells of the mob assailed him. “ Ho-ho-hole on ; hole on. 
Ye gwine too fast. Ye is in fack ; ye is in fack. Dis here ole 
lady — dis here — dis here ole lady ” 

“ Tell the truth, damn you ’’ cried an angry man, shaking his 
clenched fist at the culprit. “ What are you stuttering about ? ” 

“ Yas, sir ; yas, sir ; yas, sir. I is gwy tell de trufe. To’ God, 
gin’lemen, I is gwy tell de trufe.” 

“ Have you been here before to-night ? ” 

‘‘ Has I been here before to-night ? Has 1 been here before to- 
night? Has I ” 

“ Can’t you hear ? ” thundered the man who had before accosted 
him. ” Speak quick and tell the truth or you’re a dead nigger.” 

Yas, sir ; yas, sir ; yas, sir, I is gwy tell de trufe. ’Fo’ God, 
gin’lemen, I is gwy tell de trufe.” 

Have you been here before to-night ? ” 

He looked from one to another of those about him. Then he ^ 
lifted his voice and proclaimed vehemently so that all might 
hear : 

” ’Fo’ God, gin’lemen, I has not.” 

The widow Bascombe told a damned lie then when she said 


Swift Retribution Follows a Fearful Crime. 23 

you had ? ” cried the exasperated individual who was interrogat- 

ing. 

“ Yes, sir; yes, sir. Ef she said dat she tole a damn lie. Ef 
she said dat she tole a damn lie. Sho’s yer born, gindemen. Sho’s 
yer born.” 

They dragged him toward the burning house, as if to cast him 
into the fire. It was then he managed to break away and flee 
for his life. When recaptured, some loudly demanded that he 
be burned to death, but the less savage among them prevailed. 
They tied his hands and took him some distance away from the 
spot where the old woman lay. They found a deep hollow in the 
wood, known as Gallows Hollow to this day. Some one had 
procured a strong rope from a neighboring stable, and a noose 
at one end of this was slipped about the prisoner’s neck. He 
was lifted from the ground by dozens of hands and placed on the 
back of a gentle horse belonging to one of the party. The animal 
was brought to a stand directly under a stout limb branching 
out nearly horizontally from a scrubby tree, and an active fellow 
climbing up to this limb fastened the loose end of the rope to 
it. The malefactor sat on the horse shivering, grimacing, turning 
from one to another in the surging mass about him as if he hoped 
to find a pitying face. More than once he essayed to speak, but 
the voice of the angry crowd drowned his own. Finally, when 
he saw they were about to lead the animal from under him, he 
broke again into wild and incoherent talk. 

Ho-ho-hole on, gin’lemen ; ho-ho-hole on. You is fixin’ to do 
the wrong thing. You is in fack. You is in fack. Now I’m 
gwy give you de trufe. I’m gwy give you de Gawd’s trufe.” 

“ Tell it then. Tell it. Tell it,” came from a hundred 
throats. 

“ Yas, sir ; yas, sir ; yas sir. I was dar. I was dar. I drug 
de ole lady out’n de fire. Dat’s de fack. Dat’s de fack.” 

“ You told an infernal lie then when you said just now you 
hadn’t seen her, did you ? ” asked one, sneeringly. 

Yas, ■ sir, I did. Yas, sir, I did. Sho’s dar’s breff in my 
body, gin’lemen, I tole a infernal lie. I tole a infernal lie.” 

At this a great uproar arose. Many were instant with loud 
voices : “ Hang the scoundrel ! Hang him, hang him ! ” 

Ho-ho-hole on, gin’lemen. Ho-ho-hole on, for Gawd’s sake.” 

A young man, apparently fresh from school, had been regard- 
ing the prisoner for some moments with painful interest. He 


24 


The K. K. K. 


seemed to be a stranger, for he had as yet spoken to no one, and 
was dressed with more care than most of those about him. He 
looked over the turbulent throng now, and with some hesitation 
lifted his voice and sought to attract attention to himself. 

Gentlemen,’’ he cried in a loud voice that trembled a little 
from excitement, “ please listen to me a moment. We are about 
to do a very rash thing here to-night. I’m afraid we are about 
to do a very rash thing. Would it not be well to make a thorough 
investigation of this matter before we take a step that cannot be 
retracted ? ” 

At this there was silence for a moment or two. Then some 
one in the crowd propounded the not unnatural inquiry : “ Who 
are you ? ” 

My name is Robert Lee Templeton,” replied the youth in a 
tone that showed he derived some satisfaction from imparting the 
information. I do not live in your county, but being by acci- 
dent in this neighborhood to-night, I saw the fire and came to it. 
Now, gentlemen, I submit to you again that we should do nothing 
rash here to-night. In so grave a matter as this we should pro- 
ceed like sober-minded citizens. This negro fellow most probabl\ 
deserves hanging, and if you’ll turn him over to the authorities 
at the proper time, and in the proper manner, he’ll get his dues. 
If he is the perpetrator of the fearful crime committed to-night, 
hanging is a mild punishment for him. But it does not follow 
that he should be hung right up here to this limb without any sort 
of investigation. For us to take the law in our own hands thus 
will bring reproach on the entire community. Besides, gentle- 
men, when you come to think of it, you will see that such a course 
must encourage all evil-disposed persons in your midst to bad 
deeds. When you trample the law underfoot, you teach them 
contempt for the law.” 

The young gentleman had a persuasive manner, and a clear 
voice that penetrated a good way. His nervousness added to his 
earnestness and drew toward him a considerable portion of the 
crowd. There is always a disposition in a promiscuous and ex- 
cited assemblage to follow any one who chooses to constitute him- 
self a leader. Most of those present on this occasion were moral, 
law-abiding people, not inclined as a rule to heed rash counsel, but 
greatly wrought upon now by the shocking crime that had just 
been committed. These were disposed to listen to the speaker, 
and a few drew close to him to catch his words more distinctly. 


Swift Retribution Follows a Fearful Crime. 25 

'' Why have a law? ’’ continued Templeton, earnestly, “ and not 
live up to it ? This fellow, I say, may be guilty ” 

“ Thar ain’t no doubt about it,” interrupted a voice from the 
crowd. “ Not a bit — not a damned bit,” echoed others. 

” Very well,” replied Templeton, “ then there can be no doubt 
about the fact that he’ll be hung by the sheriff as soon as his guilt 
can be established in the court. Let the law take hold of him right 
now. Surely there ought to be some sort of deliberation when 
the life of a human being is at stake. Let the coroner or some 
legal officer take charge of this man, swear a jury and inquire 
into this transaction right here on the spot.” 

” What do yer want with the curriner ? ” inquired a rude fellow 
in the rear of the assemblage. ” Thar ain’t nobody dead yit.” 

Templeton looked rather blank at this, and another individual 
m the crowd undertook to enlighten him. “ Coroners sists on 
dead folks, young fellow. You’ve got to have a corpse afo’ you 
can summon a coroner’s jury.” 

At this a laugh arose at the young man’s expense. It was evi- 
dent he was losing his hold upon the fickle crowd. He recov- 
ered, however, from the temporary confusion into which he had 
been thrown, and was about to continue his plea for deliberation 
and more thorough investigation, when another speaker a few 
steps off waved his hat over his head and broke in vehemently : 

” Why are we wasting time here, men, listening to this school- 
boy talk about turning this scoundrel over to the courts and 
the lawyers ? Who is it doesn’t know what that means ? Who is 
it wants to see him wrangled over for years, and finally, maybe, 
go scot free on a quibble? This is no time for child’s play. We’ve 
got all the proof we need, and right here, right now, we ought to 
deal with him. Has the old Bascombe house been burned or not? 
Has the good old lady there been butchered with an ax or not? 
Did Sue Bascombe have to run off barefooted to the woods to 
escape the clutches of this devil or not? Did old Mrs. Bascombe 
give this nigger’s name to us or not ? Did his dog bark and give 
him away while he was murdering her or not? What are we 
fooling away time here for? Who dares to talk about courts, and 
lawyers, and dilly-dallying now ? Do we want our homes burned 
at night over our heads, our good old women murdered in cold 
blood, our daughters hiding in the bushes from human devils? 
Talk about wasting a lifetime in the courts over a case like this — 
haven’t we got sense enough to deal with this brute as he deserves? 


26 


The K. K. K. 


If a tiger was loose in the community would you catch him, and 
take him to the law, or would you kill him wherever you found 
him ? I tell you, men, it makes my very blood boil 

But they stayed no further question. From all sides came 
fierce demands for the negro’s death. ‘‘ Kill the brute, kill the 
brute ! Hang him, hane him, hang him ! Let the horse go ! 
Drive the horse from under him ! ” These and other furious cries 
rent the air, and the mob surged to and fro like a storm-beaten 
sea. 

The young man who had called himself Templeton did his best 
to lull the tempest that had been raised. He lifted his hand high 
and shook it vehemently in the effort to obtain once more a 
hearing. He lifted his voice on high and shouted with all his 
might : “ Hold on ; hold on ! One word more. Give me one 

word more.” In the midst of the tumult there seemed still a few 
who favored moderate counsel. “ Hear the young man ; hear 
him,” cried one or two persons in the assemblage. “ Hang the 
damned nigger. Hang him ; hang him ! ” shouted a dozen others. 

A brutal-looking fellow here forced his way into the center of 
the tumultuous crowd. He was a ruffian whose appearance would 
have attracted attention anywhere. He wore no hat, and his 
shaggy head of reddish hair was set on broad, stooping shoulders. 
His dirty matted locks almost hid his low forehead and his scowl- 
ing eyes were so badly crossed that they both seemingly never 
rested on the same object at once. His arms, like those of an 
orang-outang, appeared too long for his body and were manifestly 
of prodigious strength. In his right hand he held a stout branch, 
which he must have wrested from some tree as he came along, and 
this he held uplifted as high as his long arm could reach, giving 
vent at the same time to hoarse, loud cries, as if to strike terror 
into the animal on which the pinioned negro sat. 

The infuriated crowd noted the ruffian’s conduct and greeted 
him with a yell of approval. “ Strike the old horse, strike the 
old horse ! ” cried first one and then another. ” Hurrah for 
Cross-eyed Jack,” shouted others. The fellow looked about him 
and grinned, flourishing his branch at the same time in such a way 
as to set the horse nearly wild. 

Templeton implored a minute’s delay ; a few about him cried, 
“ Hold, hold,” but the ruffian who had been applauded as Cross- 
eyed Jack brought down his branch with all his might on the 
withers of the excited horse. With such strength did he wield his 


Swift Retribution Follows a Fearful Crime. 27 

long arm that the blow was heard on the uttermost verge of the as- 
semblage. The maddened animal plunged forward, nearly over- 
turning the man at its head, and ran until it was halted several 
yards away. The desperate negro clutched the body beneath 
tightly with his legs, but at the first bound his frail hold was 
broken, and se swung to and fro in the air, suspended by the neck 
from the strong limb above him. 

Templeton, when he saw what was done, fell back from the 
harrowing scene. He and a few others who had urged delay 
were hustled unceremoniously aside, while the ruder spirits of the 
mob crowded to the front, treading on each other’s feet in their 
anxiety to view the death agony of a human creature. They were 
not bad men — most of those who had hurriedly assembled on this 
occasion. It was such a crowd as might 'have been gathered to- 
gether on short notice almost anywhere, north, south, east or west, 
in this great country. They were fearfully wrought upon by the 
horrible crime that had just been committed, but let the whole 
truth be told. Mob law had more than once of late been resorted 
to in their community, and they were eager actors now in a scene 
from the contemplation of which they would at one time have 
shrunk in horror. Man in his highest spiritual development is 
but a little lower than the angels, but the fierce instincts of a wild 
ancestry lurk still in his nature, ready at any unguarded moment 
to drag him down and make a savage of him. 

The malefactor died a lingering, apparently a painful death. 
In his prolonged struggle his feet more than once touched the 
foremost of those who pressed about him. They stood by, for 
the most part, in silence, noting closely every movement, every 
contortion of his sufifering frame. A few had savage satisfaction 
at the pitiful spectacle depicted in their countenances ; a few wore 
painful expressions; the majority seemed to be animated by no 
stronger feeling than curiosity at a novel sight. 

After life was extinct the bystanders gradually fell back and 
separated into groups, discussing the outrage that had been com- 
mitted, and justifying the prompt punishment of the offender. 
When the space immediately around the corpse had thus been 
cleared, a small dog, till then unnoticed, crept tremblingly forward, 
and crouching humbly under the negro’s feet set up a mournful 
howl. Of all present the little creature was the dead man’s only 
friend, and its desolate note ascended so sorrowfully that it 
touched the hearts of the rudest spirits in the assemblage. The 


28 


The K. K. K. 


ruffian known as Cross-eyed Jack, however, seemed stirred to un- 
governable rage by it. Rushing forward with his stout branch 
uplifted he aimed a blow at the dog that must have ended its ex- 
istence if it had fallen as intended. Fortunately the little animal 
became aware of the danger in time, and springing nim.bly aside 
fled with a yelp of mingled rage and terror from the scene. 



I 


The Old Widow Tells a Plain, Unvarnished Tale. 2^ 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE OLD WIDOW TELLS A PLAIN, UNVARNISHED TALE. 

Day was breaking when the mob finally dispersed. One by 
one they had ridden away after the purpose that assembled them 
had been accomplished, a few only lingering until the reddening 
east warned them off. Before the sun rose the last loiterer had 
retired from the scene, leaving the dead negro alone in the woods. 

Tlie birds now began to twitter cheerfully and to spread their 
wings and fly from place to place in the forest. One perched 
upon the limb from which the lifeless body hung, and by discor- 
dant cries called others to view the grewsome sight. As the day 
advanced human creatures came again upon the spot. Dressed 
all in their Sunday best — for it was the Sabbath day — they came 
now in groups of two and three, gazed curiously at the suspended 
corpse and went their way to church or to some place of country 
pastime. Little boys crept softly to the spot, supped their full of 
horror, and stole, open-eyed and open-mouthed, away. As the 
noon hour approached, the number of visitors so increased that 
a path was beaten from the highway to the spot where the dead 
man with his arms pinioned swung to and fro. They stood about 
and talked, but touched not the body of Sandy Kinchen ; for while 
a mob of excited men might hang him up, none but the law’s offi- 
cers could take the responsibility of cutting him down. 

It was nearly night when the coroner came. He rode gravely 
into the assemblage and made several circuits on horseback round 
the corpse before he dismounted. He had been notified early in 
the day that a dead man hung in the woods near the old Bascombe 
place, but official duty, or something else, kept him away. Perhaps 
he thought if he responded to the notice too promptly he might 
obtain more information than he cared to possess. Now he rode 
round and round the fatal tree, dismounted, looked into the faces 
of the promiscuous assemblage, and said it was a bad business. 
He then took a well-thumbed New Testament from his pocket, 


30 


The K. K. K. 


swore in seven of the bystanders as jurors and proceeded to hold 
an inquest. Numerous witnesses were called, all of whom swore 
positively that they knew nothing at all about the matter in hand. 
Most inclined to the belief that the body now hanging stark and 
stiff from the limb was the body of the late Sandy Kinchen, but 
upon this there was some divergence of opinion. Some said it 
was Sandy ; others said no, but it looks like him. All doubt on this 
point, however, was soon set at rest by Reuben Kinchen, brother 
of Sandy, who, being brought to the spot, testified without hes- 
itation that it was the corpse of his younger brother, Sandy, 
swinging from the limb. The coroner then prepared his return, 
setting forth the fact that he and the seven jurors had viewed the 
body of a man there hanging dead before them, who had come 
to his death by violence at the hands of some person or persons 
unknown. The return further set forth the fact that the body of 
the man so hanging dead before the jury they found from all the 
evidence to be that of one Sandy Kinchen, a man of color. All 
the jurors signed this report, and the body of Sandy Kinchen was 
then cut down with the coroner’s own knife. Reuben, who stood 
respectfully by, was now notified that he might take his brother 
Sandy off somewhere and bury him, the law being through with 
him. 

; Perhaps it occurred to Reuben that the law would have been 
more efficient if it had taken hold of Sandy’s case in his lifetime, 
but if any such notion came into his head he was wise enough to 
keep it to himself. He remarked, as he gently straightened out 
his brother’s legs, that his mammy had tried to raise the boy right, 
and that they had never known him to be guilty of such a trick 
before. 

“ He played hell when he did make a break,” said one of the 
jurors, “ and got just what he deserved for his conduct.” 

“ I ain’t ’sputin’ dat, sir,” replied Reuben, meekly. “ Dem what 
sins must suffer.” 

Then they fell to abusing the dead man in the presence of his 
brother, who responded not at all. When they laid the lifeless 
body in a cart to be hauled away, Reuben took off his hat and said 
to those present : “ It looks bad for Sandy now, gentlemen, but I 
hopes you all will believe me when I tells you that afo’ this we 
never know’d no wuss of him than that he would go meandering 
up and down the country of nights.” 

So they took Sandy Kinchen off and buried him ; and from that 


The Old Widow Tells a Plain, Unvarnished Tale. 31 

time forth he meandered no more up and down the country of 
nights. Whatever might have been thought otherwise of the 
action of the mob, it had at least cured him of this reprehensible 
habit. 

Old Mrs. Bascombe held on to life bravely. The doctor 
thought when he first saw her that she could not live an hour, but 
she lay in a stupor most of the following day, muttering and bab- 
bling constantly, and occasionally uttering when aroused a few 
coherent words. It was thought best not to attempt to remove 
her from the spot where she was found, and a tent was improvised 
of stout cloth and set up over her. The young man who had 
called himself Robert Lee Templeton, and who seemed to be a 
handy youth as well as an obliging one, attended to the erection 
of this tent. He stretched it overhead so as to ward ofif sun and 
possible shower, looped up the walls so as to allow free passage for 
the air, and did his best in every way to add to the comfort of the 
desperately stricken creature who lay underneath the shelter. Sue 
Bascombe, the granddaughter, and most of the kindly neighbors 
took a fancy to him, for nothing else except sympathy and gene- 
rosity of disposition could have prompted him to the course he was 
now pursuing. His home, they learned, was in an adjoining 
county. He had just graduated from college, and some errand 
of business or pleasure had brought him into the Marrowbone 
Hills at this time. 

As the day advanced the old woman seemed to revive, and her 
mind cleared up considerably. The physician said the improve- 
ment in her condition was only temporary ; that for the present 
she was buoyed up with fever and brandy, but in a short time her 
system would relax and the inevitable would follow. However 
this might be, she certainly was better and brighter late in the 
afternoon following the infliction of her wound. 

Toward sundown she called for food, and some chicken broth 
having been administered by her granddaughter, she wiped her 
mouth with the sleeve of her gown and seemed disposed for con- 
versation. 

“ Have they kotched him ? ” she asked in a low tone, her head 
turned ir» the direction of Sue. 

The girl nodded to her in reply. 

“ Whar is he ? ” inquired the old woman. “ I want to see 
him.” 

“ They had him here last night,” said the girl, evasively. 


32 The K. K. K. 

“ Why didn’t they let me know ? I wanted to talk to the low- 
lived scoundrel.” 

” They asked you about him, Granny. You talked about him 
last night. Don’t you remember? ” 

“ I wa’n’t in my right mind,” replied the old woman. Fetch 
him here now. I’m all right now. I want to see him, and I want 
him to see his work.” 

The girl made no answer. 

‘‘Has they jailed him?” inquired the old woman, again ad- 
dressing her granddaughter. “ Wal, its all right, I reckon ; all 
right, I reckon. I’ll be thar at the trial, though. You kin count 
on that.” 

She looked around now from one to another of those about her, 
and inspected curiously the tent that had been erected above her. 
She picked at the light coverlet that had been thrown over her, 
which two old women in attendance whispered each other was a 
bad sign. She dozed a little, then roused suddenly, and spoke 
again to the girl : 

“ Sandy is a good nigger,” she said to her granddaughter. “ I 
tell you he’s as good as they make ’em.’*’ 

The girl looked at her in surprise. 

“ He’s as good as they make ’em,” repeated the old woman. 
“ Whar would I be now but for Sandy? ” 

There were some half-dozen persons in the group, and they all 
eyed her inquiringly. 

“ Whar’s Sandy ? ” continued the old woman, looking from one 
to another of them. *‘ I don’t see him amongst ye. Thar ain’t 
no occasion for him to be makin’ himself skerce. He didn’t make 
himself skerce las’ night when he drug me out’n the fire, and he 
needn't make himself skerce now. Fetch him here; I want ye all 
to hear me tell him how much I’m ’bleeged to him for runnin’ up 
at the nick of time and draggin’ me out’n the fire. He’s a nig- 
ger, I’ll own to that, but, nigger or no nigger. I’m beholden to 
him for what he done for me, and I want to tell him so. A friend 
in need is a friend indeed, as the school chillern write down in 
their copy-books. Tell Sandy to step in here ; I want to see him.” 
him.” 

A portly, middle-aged matron — one of that numerous class 
whose delight it always is to impart unpleasant intelligence — here 
leaned over, and, speaking slowly and distinctly, said to the old 
^woman : 


The Old Widow Tells a Plain, Unvarnished Tale. 33 

“ They hung Sandy last night to a black-jack tree up yander 
on the side of the hill.” 

“ Done which ? ” inquired the old woman, as if unable to at once 
grasp the full import of the words she had heard. 

“ They hung him,” repeated her informant in a higher key. 
“ They hung Sandy last night sho’s yer born.” 

‘‘ What fur ? ” asked the old woman in astonishment. 

“ Fur murderin’ uv you ; and a burnin’ your house ; and a run- 
nin’ Sue off to the woods.” 

“ Wal’ now, ye hev did it,” exclaimed the old woman with more 
strength in her tone that they thought she could command. “Ye 
are jess a passle of id juts, that’s what ye are. To think 
ye’d hev no more gumption than that, no more gumption 
than that.” 

“ Mrs. Bascombe,” said Templeton, seeing she was becoming 
too much excited, “ don’t worry over the matter. You are not 
exactly at yourself just now. We did hang him because he com- 
mitted an outrageous crime, but don’t trouble yourself now 
about it.” 

“ Ye did hang him, did ye? ” exclaimed the old woman, taunt- 
ingly. “ Wal, I ’lowed ’twas some sich smart Aleck as you. 
Whar’d you come from, anyhow ? ” 

Seeing that his presence exasperated her, the young man re- 
tired. The old woman now looked at her granddaughter, and 
into such familiar faces as she saw about her. “ Hev they hung 
him sho nuff ? ” she inquired. 

One or two said “ Yes,” others nodded their heads by way of 
assent. Then the old woman railed at them from her pallet on 
the ground. 

“ Ye’ve gone and hung Sandy, hev ye? Wal now, s’pos’n’ ye 
take me out and hang me. Ye hung him for draggin’ me out’n 
the fire ; now hang me for bein’ drug out’n the fire. Hung 
Sandy, hung Sandy! Wal, ye are jess a passle of idjuts, the 
last one of ye. And tell me what ye did to Cross-eyed Jack, will 
ye? I s’pos’n’ ye turned him aloose, and gin him a chromo.” 

“ Cross-eyed Jack? ” inquired the woman who had first spoken. 
“ What about him ? ” 

“What about him? No wonder ye ax what about him. He 
bu’sted my door open in the middle of the night, sot my house on 
fire, split my head open with a ax, and skert Sue nigh out’n her 
senses. That’s all he done. So now jess give him a chromo, 

3 


t 


34 


The K. K. K. 


and turn him aloosc. Do that, and then come finish your job by 
bangin’ me to a black-jack tree ’longside of Sandy. Jess do that 
now ; do that, and I’ll take it as a favor. Go ’way from here, all 
of ye! she cried with sudden indignation. “Go ’way, I tell ye. 
I don’t want to lay eyes on none of ye no more.” 

“ Granny, Granny,” said Sue, soothingly, and she gave her 
some quieting medicine. The old woman lay in silence for a few 
moments, then she spoke out again : 

“ Let ’em go away ; let ’em go away. I don’t want to lay eyes 
on none of ’em again. Betwixt white folks that don’t help in 
time of trouble, and niggers that does. I’m on the side of the 
niggers. Wal, wal, wal, yv^al ! The idjuts hev gone and hung 
Sandy, hung poor S.andy. Hung him to a sour apple tree, as the 
sayin’ goes. No, it was to a black-jack tree this time, a black- 
jack tree. Wal, wal, wal ! ” 

“ Mrs. Bascombe,” began Templeton, hoping to get a connected 
story from the old woman. 

“ I don’t keer to hear another word from ye,” she interrupted 
emphatically. “ Ye needn’t speak a single solitary word to me. 
Smooth talk ain’t a gwine to fetch that nigger back to life ; so 
hold your tongue, and save your manners. But I tell ye now, 
young fellow, some things kin be stood, and some is too aggra- 
vatin’ to be stood. Ye’ve hung a good nigger for befriending a 
lone widder, and when I’m up from here Tm going to have the 
law on the last one of ye.” 

“ Did Sandy Kinchen befriend you? ” 

“ Did he? Hain’t I jess told ye what he did? Do ye want me 
to begin at the fust, and tell it all? Wal, I will. Here come 
Cross-eyed Jack, a low-lived scoundrel, slippin’ up to the house, 
with me dead asleep, and the gal, I s’pose, a cat-nappin’. Afo’ 
anybody know’d what he was about, he slams the ax agin the 
door with all his might. Right ’pon top of that comes another 
lick; the door flies open, I jumps up, and the gal pops out’n the 
winder. Bein’ young and spry she pops out’n the winder, and 
runs up the hill, I make no doubt, like a wild turkey. I was fust 
on the floor, and I makes for the yard door as fast as I kin, as 
fast as ever I kin. I got clean out, and most down to the big 
road, when I looked back and seed a great blaze in the house. 
Mebbe that devil. Cross-eyed Jack, drapped a match accidental 
huntin’ about for me and Sue. Mebbe he sot the room a fire 
a purpose — I dunno, I dunno. He’s none too good to do sich a 


The Old Widow Tells a Plain, Unvarnished Tale. 35 

thing, and I b’lieve he sot it a fire a purpose. Anyhow, thar 
was a bright blaze by the time I got a little piece off from the 
house. When I seed that I couldn’t stand to have my things 
burned up, so I turned back and fotched a yell to ’larm the coun- 
try. ‘ Hush,’ he says, ‘ you old ’ and with that he called me a 

bad name, which — bein’ a church member — I’m not a gwine to 
mention.” 

“ Granny,” interrupted Sue, “ you’re talking too much. Be- 
quiet now a little while, and then you can go on again.” 

” Never you mind; I know what I’m ’bout. Gimme another 
taste of that liquor, gal. Lawful sakes, whar was I ? Hung 
Sandy, hung Sandy ; yas, yas. Here he conies bustin’ towards 
me, and he calls me a owdacious name, and I says to him, ‘ I 
know ye, and I’ll have the law on ye, ye cross-eyed scoundrel.’ 

Them’s jess the words I said, and right at ” 

Granny, Granny, you’re talking too much.” 

“ Never you mind, gal. I’m a tellin’ it for the benefit of them 
that’s gone and hung Sandy. ‘ I know ye/ says I. ‘ I know ye.’ 
With that he raised his ax, and with that I fotched another yell, 
and with that — Lord, have massy ’pon me — he hit me right squar’ 
on the head, and knocked me cold as a wedge. Then I s’pos’n’ he 
tuck to his heels and leff them parts. And befo’ I come to right 
good I thought of Sue a runnin’ from that cross-eyed devil. It 
was on my mind, on my mind. And when I come to — laws a 
massy, laws a massy — the house was a burnin’ and the smoke and 
fire a rushin’ out at the door, and me not able to move. I reckon 
ye wouldn’t a liked that, none of ye, and yit, that’s jess the identi- 
cal fix I was in. Presently there was a little dog barkin’, barkin’ 
and a snifflin’ round me. And presently here comes a feller run- 
nin’ — I heerd him, I heerd him — and he grabs me, and he drags 
me out’n the fire and smoke and off from the house. Fm a givin’ it 
to ye straight. Whar’s them that hung Sandy? Let ’em come 
forrards and listen. He was a nigger feller, this here feller was, 
and I don’t in jineral bemean myself by ’sociatin’ with niggers, 
but this time I was glad for a while to ’sociate with niggers, I 
kin tell you. Whiles he was a draggin’ me out’n the smoke and 
fire, and the dog was barkin’, barkin’, I opened my eyes, and I 
looked at the nigger feller hard, and it was Sandy Kinchen ; nei- 
ther more nor less, nor y't any other pusson but Sandy Kinchen. 
I knowed him well ; I seed him good, and I tell you ’twas Sandy 
Kinchen; the very identical nigger that this here young smart 


The K. K. K. 


36 

Aleck, and a lot of other smart Alecks, has gone and hung to a 
black-jack tree. And the little dog that was barkin’, barkin’, I 
seed him good, too, and I tells you ’twas the identical little dog 
which keeps company with Sandy, and which everybody calls Jin- 
eral Beauregard, sich bein’ the outlandish name Sandy guv him.” 

” Granny, Granny ! ” 

''Lemme ’lone, I tell you, gal. ’Twas Sandy Kinchen, I tell 
you, which you know’d as well as I did, and never know’d no spe- 
cial harm of him, nother. He put my gown out, which was afire ; 
and he looked at my head, which was split open, and he seed the 
blood a spurtin’ and a streamin’ every whicher way, and he says — 
the nigger did, I heard him plain — ‘ Gawd A’mighty, what shill 
I do? ’ Then I says to him, ‘ Run for the doctor, Sandy,’ and with 
that he run, and the dog run ; and I hain’t seed nary one of ’em 
sence. Hain’t seed ’em ; hain’t seed ’em. Did they hang the 
dog, too? Now I wonder if they hung the little dog to a black- 
jack tree, becase he was around, and jess as deep into it as Sandy. 
Lord, Lord, to think of what they have gone and did ; jess to think 
of it ; jess to think of it.’’ 

The doctor here came in and felt her pulse. She did not seem 
to have been weakened by her effort. Indeed, her voice was 
stronger now than at any time s'lice she received the injury. 

“ Mrs. Bascombe,” said Templeton, kneeling by her, ” you’ve 
surprised us all very much by your story ” 

” No wonder,” interrupted the old woman. ‘‘ But that ain’t 
a gwine to git you out’n the scrape you’re in ; I tell you that.” 

” Mrs. Bascombe,” pursued Templeton, “ are you perfectly 
certain it was the man called Cross-eyed Jack who struck you? 
You may not be living when the court meets, and ” 

“ ]\Ie not be living when the court meets? I hain’t no notion 
of dyin’, young feller; I tell you that. You summons me to the 
trial and I’ll be thar.” 

” Could you swear positively to the man who struck you ? ” 

“ Kin I swar to him ? Td swar to him on a stack of Bibles high 
as the house he burned. Hain’t he worked in my gyarden, and 
’bout on the place? Work, did I say? I’ll take that back. He 
jess only piddled ’round, and made believe to work. Didn’t he 
make bold to set up to Sue, and didn’t she snub him the wust 
kind ? Didn’t I have to turn him off at last for a lazy, cross-eyed, 
impudent rascal? Me not know him when he faced me last night? 
.You summons me to the court house when the trial comes off, and 


The Old Widow Tells a Plain, Unvarnished Tale. 37 

I 11 p int my finger at him, and tell him all I’ve told here, and 
more besides. I’ll give him the whole truth right to his ugly face, 
and he dassn’t deny my words. I’ll swar to it all before judge and 
jury when the time comes; see if I don’t, see if I don’t. You 
summons me to the court house, young feller ; Til be thar.'’ 

One of those who had been a willing participator in the untimely 
taking off of poor Sandy, here asked : 

“ Why didn’t the nigger come back to you after he’d gone his 
errand ? ” 

“ Oh, I dunno, I dunno. Mebbe he come in sight and was 
af eared to venture up. You all was tearin’ round, I reckon, mad 
as blazes, and when a mob is on a rampage in these parts, the 
smartest thing a nigger can do is to hide out. Ef I’d a been in 
Sandy’s place you never would a laid hands on me, I tell you that. 
Whar he played the fool was in lettin’ himself git caught.” 

“ He told us he hadn’t seen you,” persisted the speaker. “ He 
lied about having been here at all.” 

” Oh, I s’pos’n’ he did,” rejoined the old woman, impatiently. 
“ Ef he had ’fessed to being here, ye’d a hung him for that ; but 
he lied about it, and so ye hung him for lyin’. You was bound to 
have a hangin’, that’s a fact, and wa’n’t very particular whose 
neck was pulled. Ef ’twa’n’t easy to ketch the right man, ruther 
than wait ye’d string up the wrong man. When you fellers git 
started, you're like young dogs on a hunt ; you’ll chase any kind 
of game, jess to be barkin’ and runnin’.” 

To this the individual who had provoked the old woman’s sar- 
casm did not deem it prudent to reply. 

” The next time you all gits up a mob,” she continued, address- 
ing him, sneefingly, “ you better git a sensible woman to head 
you. Wimmen is jest as excitable as men, but they ain’t so bloody- 
minded.” 

After this she became quiet and dozed for a half hour or more. 
When she awoke they gave her a stimulant, and she seemed 
calmer and more cheerful. Seeing Templeton’s face among those 
near her, she addressed him in a good, strong voice, and in a not 
unkindly tone : 

“ I’ll be at the court house, young feller, by the time you and 
Cross-eyed Jack gits thar; don’t you be nowise oneasy.” 

” You’re better, ain’t you. Granny? ” queried Sue. 

“ Yes, I’m better,’’’ answered the old woman, “ and I mean to 
keep on gittin’ better.” 


38 The K. K. K. 

She remained quiet now for some time, and then spoke again, 
to no one in particular : 

“ They was bound to hang* somebody, and so they hung Sandy 
Kinchen/’ 

Shortly after this she dropped again into a doze, which soon 
deepened into sound slumber. She slept and slept lying quite 
still, and breathing now heavily, now more and more peacfully. 
The doctor said it was a good indication, and quietly they all 
slipped away from her presence, lest they might disturb her. 
When shortly before midnight Sue Bascombe crept back into the 
tent, and looked narrowly in her face, she had joined Sandy Kin- 
chen in the land of the leal. 


A Grievous Mistake. 


39 


CHAPTER V. 

A GRIEVOUS MISTAKE HAVING BEEN MADE CERTAIN WELL-DISPOSED 
PERSONS DO THEIR ENDEAVOR TO RECTIFY IT. 

The old woman’s tale spread through the community almost 
as rapidly as intelligence of the startling crime had done the night 
before. The excitement, which had begun to die out, was kindled 
afresh, and by nightfall a large crowd was again assembled on 
the ground where the house had stood. They lingered in groups 
about the decaying embers and discussed earnestly the latest de- 
velopments in the shocking tragedy. All regretted now the un- 
timely taking off of poor Sandy, and, as was natural under the 
circumstances, nearly every man displayed a disposition to shift 
the responsibility for this melancholy blunder from his own to the 
shoulders of some one else. This individual never had acquiesced 
in the hasty action of the mob, but, being timid about speaking in 
public, had not raised his voice in protest against it. Another had 
actually spoken out in favor of caution and a more thorough in- 
vestigation, but in the general hubbub that existed at the moment 
nobody had overheard him. Every one who knew anything fa- 
vorable in Sandy’s career now hastened to tell it, and the verdict 
of the previous night that he was a deep-dyed scoundrel was re- 
versed almost as hastily as it had been rendered. 

If expressions of sympathy, however, had now taken the place 
of execrations in the case of the unfortunate negro, exactly the 
opposite was true with the individual known to most people there- 
about as Cross-eyed Jack. This fellow had been one of the ring- 
leaders in the frenzied assemblage that had done an innocent man 
to death for a fearful crime. Not only so, but he alone of all pres- 
ent knew the man was innocent who was being made to atone for 
the monstrous wrong done. This Cross-eyed Jack, they were all 
agreed now, was a diabolical scoundrel who should be compelled 
to suffer the agonies of a thousand deaths, if such a penalty could 
be inflicted upon him. What, burn a dwelling at midnight ; murder 


40 


The K. K. K. 


an inoffensive old woman in cold blood ; compel a young girl to 
hide from him like a partridge ; and then hurry an innocent man to 
death for the crimes he had himself committed ! Do all this, and 
expect to escape the vengeance of a deeply outraged community ! 
Where was he? Where was he? Mount your horses, you good 
men, and hunt the scoundrel down. Catch him, catch him, catch 
him ! this malignant devil in human shape ; and hang him, draw 
him, quarter him, burn him, send him out of the world as soon 
as he is caught by the very roughest road any mortal creature has 
ever been forced to travel. This was the angry sentence entered 
up against Cross-eyed Jack as the infuriated crowd stood around 
the ashes of the old Bascombe house, and contemplated their own 
work of the night before, and the shocking depravity of the 
wretch who had been foremost among them in the enterprise upon 
which they nearly all at the time were so heartily bent. 

The villain who was now the object of their fierce wrath perhaps 
deserved all the anathemas tliat were being hurled against him, 
and more besides. In appearance he was such a man-animal as 
one may imagine roamed the earth millions of years ago when 
human beings first began to claim ascendency over four-footed 
creatures. In disposition he was, if possible, even uglier than in 
face or figure. No human being is perhaps wholly depraved, but 
if there was a single redeeming feature in the character of this 
surly scoundrel, his mother had never been able to discover it. He 
was of foreign parentage, as his name, Johan Ankerstrom, indi- 
cated, but had been reared in the lowest quarter of one of our 
large American cities, from which he had been finally compelled 
to withdraw because his frequent infractions of the law had placed 
him on too familiar terms with the police. A few months before 
the tragedy at the Bascombe place he had drifted into the Marrow- 
bone Hills, and wandering alx)ut, working at odd jobs, he became 
known by sight to many of the good people of that section. His 
name being unusual — and a little more than mouthful for some 
of his new acquaintances — they had saddled upon him numerous 
aliases, such as Cross-eyed Jack, Dutch Ankers, etc., for all of 
which /the callous Johan cared no more than a stray dog would 
have cared if divers appellations had been bestowed upon him in 
a community as he shifted his habitat from ])lace to place. 

This was the creature then for whom anxious inquiry was now 
being made on all sides. The crowd was resolved to have him, 
and the crowd was resolved to make short work of him when they 


A Grievous Mistake. 


41 

did get him. So they instituted hasty search, and up and down, 
and across country, they rode and they ran. They picked up 
scraps of information, and hastened back with each item to the 
surging mass of human beings that waited for the capture of the 
miscreant, and grew angrier with delay. A wagoner had brought 
Johan — Dutch Ankers he called him — from a cross-roads village 
in the hills the evening before, and had set him down not far 
from the Bascombe place. Ankerstrom, however, when he left 
the wagoner, had gone toward the house of a farmer, named Dot- 
son, for whom he had at one time worked a few days. He carried 
an ax on his shoulder, and told the wagoner that Dotson owed 
him a bill which he wished to collect. As soon as this news was 
brought one was sent oflf posthaste to inquire into the matter, and 
soon brought back word from Dotson — who was an honest but 
cross-grained old chap — that he had not seen hair nor hide of 
Dutch Ankers, and moreover, that anybody who said he owed 
him money was a liar. This showed that Ankerstrom had been 
loafing about in the neighborhood on the night of the crime, but 
his presence at the mobbing of Sandy proved that. The wagon- 
er’s tale proved further, however, that the fellow carried an ax, 
and this was a strong corroborating circumstance — if any had been 
needed — to strengthen the narrative of old Mrs. Bascombe. 
Much more to the point was the information, brought in later, 
that the man whose appearance was so much desired had gotten 
dinner on the preceding day — Sunday — at a house not five miles 
away from the scene of the crime. After dinner he had laid down 
under a tree in the yard, like one wholly free from concern, and 
taken a long nap. When he woke he went off on foot toward 
Nashville, saying he was going to that place to seek work. From 
his conduct at this place it was argued that the house-burner and 
double murderer was under no special apprehension, and might 
be overtaken if prompt pursuit was made. He no doubt rested 
under the assurance that the blow from his ax had rendered the 
old widow forever incapable of telling tales, and the execution of 
the negro by the mob would leave the public under the impression 
that the real offender had been punished. A half-dozen men now 
started on good horses to apprehend the scoundrel and bring him 
back. These were specially enjoined by the large crowd that still 
lingered on the ground — for they were coming and going all the 
time — not to despatch Ankerstrom when they caught him, but to 
fetch him back to the scene of his villainy, where the whole as- 


42 


The K. K. K. 


semblage might have the satisfaction of dealing with him. This 
was late at night and many now stretched themselves out on the 
bare ground to sleep away the time that must intervene before 
the return of the squad that had been sent forth upon this mis- 
sion. 

It was in the forenoon^ on Sunday that Randolph Pearson first 
learned of the terrible tragedy at the house from which he had 
himself departed at bedtime on the evening before. He heard at the 
same time that the negro, Kinchen, had been hung for the crime 
by a mob of indignant citizens. Riding to the place as rapidly as 
he could he found a large crowd assembled, the dwelling in ashes, 
and the widow Bascombe dying in a corner of her yard under an 
improvised tent. Pearson did not believe in mob law as a remedy 
for any evil, and even under these trying circumstances he plainly 
said to those whom he suspected of having been members of the 
mob that it would have been better to have turned the negro over 
to the courts, rather than deal with him themselves in such sum- 
mary fashion. The courts, he said, were slow, and sometimes 
there was a failure of justice, but hurried uprisings at night af- 
forded but a poor substitute for deliberate investigation, such as 
should be had when the life of a human being was at stake. 
Moreover, when good citizens advertised to the world that they 
had no faith in the laws under which' they lived, they gave to the 
community in which they resided an unenviable notoriety. All 
this, and more, said Randolph Pearson calmly to his neighbors at 
a time when every one supposed the negro, Kinchen, had met a 
just fate. That night, when the whole truth was out, and it was 
found that the hasty execution of Sandy had been a terrible blun- 
der, Pearson indulged in no additional criticism on the conduct 
of the mob, but resolved that a second individual should not be 
hastily done to death for the same offense if he could avoid it. 
He was an earnest, conscientious man, was Randolph Pearson, 
much respected by all his neighbors ; but when he announced the 
conclusion he had reached on this subject he \vas met by a storm 
of indignation, and many of his best friends withstood him to the 
teeth. There should be no delay — they said — in the punishment 
of the scoundrel whose crime was too black to admit of any 
thought of indulgence in his case. There should be no long legal 
investigation to wear out the patience of witnesses, and maybe 
result at last in the utter failure of justice. Mobs might sometimes 
make mistakes, and hang the wrong man, but there was no doubt 


A Grievous Mistake. 


43 


about the guilt of this fellow, and swing he should to the very tree 
on which poor Kinchen had died, just as soon as the squad that 
had gone to seek him could lay hands on him and bring him 
back. 

Day broke, however, before the return of the squad that had 
gone forth in quest of the murderer. Many had left, wearied with 
the long delay, but others took their places, and by sunrise on 
Monday morning the assemblage was greater than it had been 
at any time before. Numerous persons were now present from a 
distance, for the news of the terrible tragedy at the old Bascombe 
place had spread far and wide through the country. All waited 
impatiently to learn something of the whereabouts of the mur- 
derer, but for many hours waited in vain. About two hours after 
sunrise the half-dozen horsemen returned with the report that they 
had scoured the country for the missing man, but had failed to 
find any trace of him after he left the place where he took dinner. 
This intelligence was most disheartening to the crowd, but not 
so to Pearson, who believed with diligent effort the fugitive could 
be apprehended, and in the meantime suitable precaution could be 
taken against his being swung up by the mob as soon as he was 
caught. 

It was necessary to act promptly, and Pearson resolved while 
the interest was at white heat to organize a band of determined 
men who would aid him in the double purpose he had formed, 
first to effect the capture of the fugitive, and, second, to see that 
he was not killed by a crowd of frenzied m.en as soon as overtaken. 
To apprehend the criminal, it was now evident, would be no easy 
task, but would probably require systematic search, in which it 
might be necessary to employ skilled detectives. The sheriff 
could ride the county, and the governor might be induced to 
offer a reward, but other means must be resorted to if it was 
expected to ferret out a hardened villain, who even nO’W, no 
doubt, was making his way secretly out of the country. 

Thus said Randolph Pearson to those who were now more than 
willing to listen to him, and it was agreed that a meeting should 
be held that night for the purpose of organization, none to be 
present except twenty or thirty active men, who were selected in 
advance, and who could be relied on to render material aid in the 
contemplated work. Upon one point the author of this plan was 
compelled to make some concession. Those who had agreed to 
band together were divided upon the question as to whether the 


44 


The K. K. K. 


fugitive should be turned over to the courts when caught or dealt 
with by themselves. After some discussion, however, they con- 
cluded, first, to work unitedly for the arrest of the murderer, and 
when this was accomplished to leave his subsequent disposition 
to a decision of a majority of their own number. 

The young gentleman who had given his name as Robert Lee 
Templeton was not among those who had agreed to organize for 
the purpose of apprehending and punishing the murderer. He 
was a stranger in the vicinity and could not have co-operated with 
the other members regularly, even if he had been made one of 
their number ; and, besides, having little knowledge of his charac- 
ter and habits, they were not disposed to admit him at once into 
full fellowship with them. He was undoubtedly a whole-souled 
generous young fellow, however, and a task was therefore as- 
signed him which he was glad to undertake as soon as he had re- 
ceived the suggestion from some of the older citizens present. 
This was to ride to the county town, a dozen or more miles away, 
swear out a warrant for the arrest of the murderer, Ankerstrom, 
and place the writ without delay into the hands of the sheriff. By 
giving the law officer a description of the personal appearance of 
Cross-eyed Jack, he could make sure of his recognition where- 
ever found. Templeton, however, when this latter suggestion was 
made to him, declared he would not only give the writ to the 
sheriff, but would accompany that officer and help him arrest the 
murderer whenever they came upon him. 

Before the large assemblage dispersed, Pearson and a few other 
charitable persons imposed on themselves another duty which 
they thought was demanded by simple justice under the" circum- 
stances. Taking advantage of the sympathy that was openly ex- 
pressed for the innocent negro who had fallen a victim to mob 
violence, they sought to obtain substantial aid for the family he 
had left behind. Kinchen, .fortunately, had not raised such a 
brood as is usually to be found around the cabins of members of 
his race, and therefore provision for his family could be the more 
easily made. His wife Patsy and his young son Pete consti- 
tuted the entire connection that remained to mourn him, if we ex- 
cept the little fox terrier that came so near meeting death under 
the same gallows tree with his master. By heading a subscrip- 
tion list with a liberal donation of their own, and going first to 
those who were able and willing to contribute generously, they 
soon obtained a fund sufficient to buy a few acres of hill land as a 


A Grievous Mistake. 


45 


permanent home for Patsy Kinchen, widow of the late Sandy. As 
the opportunity for inquiry was favorable, they learned also of a 
piece of ground back in the uplands with which the owner was 
willing to part for a modest remuneration. This little tract had 
timber and running water, two essentials in that locality, but 
lacked a dwelling. Numerous individuals who sympathized with 
the object, but lacked money, now came forward and offered to 
cut logs for the tenement, and give a house-raising on the place 
one day during the following week. The necessary preliminaries 
|being thus arranged, the bargain was struck, the land paid for and 
a binding agreement entered into for the erection of a substantial 
log residence for Patsy Kinchen ; all within less than forty-eight 
Tours after her husband’s unexpected departure from this world. 
, Sandy himself, while a sojourner upon earth, had come to forty 
years or thereabouts, and had never accumulated any property 
but a dog. Viewed strictly from a business standpoint, therefore, 
his wife Patsy, though a loud and sincere mourner at his funeral, 
was not seriously a loser by the hasty action of the mob. 

That night, after the veil of darkness enveloped the earth, and 
most good folk in the neighborhood were abed resting from the 
'fatigue and excitement of the past two days, a score or more of en- 
ergetic citizens met at a designated spot to form the organization 
that had been determined upon in the morning. They met out of 
doors because the night was pleasant, and they wished to avoid 
the notoriety that must have followed their assembling at any farm 
house. A secret organization was preferable too, because by this 
means undesirable persons could be more readily kept out of the 
lassociation, and the determination to overtake the murderer and 
deal with him as they saw fit could be more easily accomplished. 
As very often happens in such enterprises, the original design to 
iform a temporary union for the accomplishment of a single pur- 
pose expanded as they conferred on the occasion of their first 
meeting, and they thought it expedient to unite themselves into 
la company of regulators, or patrolers, which should undertake 
mot only to bring Ankerstrom to justice for his offense, but also 
ito take some steps toward bringing about a more settled condition 
jof affairs in their community. Lawlessness, if not rampant, had 
Igotten to be quite common among them, and negroes were un- 
doubtedly the principal depredators as far as minor offenses were 
concerned. Now and then they were unjustly suspected, as was 
shown by the terrible mistake in the Kinchen case, but their 


The K. K. K. 



peccadilloes in the way of hog" stealing, hen-roost robberies and 
the like w'ere sufficiently well established to make it expedient if 
possible to put some kind of check upon them. In addition, there 
v/as among good citizens in the community a growing contempt 
for the law, and a consequent disposition after every criminal 
offense to substitute hasty retribution for judicial investigation, 
and this dangerous tendency needed to be curbed in some prudent 
manner. 

All things considered, the little group that met under the green- 
wood tree on this occasion thought it best to organize a band of 
regulators in their section, and as they cast about them for rules 
and regulations by which to govern such an association, they 
could stumble on no better plan than to resurrect an old society 
that had exerted a great influence on their community shortly 
after the close of the civil war. Times had greatly changed, but 
the purpose of the former order, as generally understood, did not 
differ materially from those now sought to be accomplished. 
Three or four members of this old secret society were present, and 
from these all the grips and pass- words were obtained, together 
with the substance of the constitution and by-laws as well as the 
latter had been preserved in faithful memories. Under the quiet 
stars, then, and at considerable distance from any human habita- 
tion, the mysterious order of the K. K. K. was revived, its ritual 
restored, its officers chosen and solemnly sworn, its members 
bound to secrecy by a vow so dreadful that the lightest among 
them would not dare afterward to violate his obligation. This 
done, they prepared to take action on some other matters they 
deemed worthy their attention, perfected their plans for the appre- 
hension of the murderer, and rode away each man to his home, 
none other than themselves be’ng aware of the fact that they had 
assembled at all. 

The dead society which they had thus galvanized into life is 
perhaps worthy of passing mention before proceeding to the 
narration of what transpired’ subseqiuntly. 


The Clan has a Name that is Nameless by Day.” 47 


CHAPTER VI. 

“ THE moon's on the LAKE, AND THE MIST ON THE BRAE; 

AND THE CLAN HAS A NAME THAT IS NAMELESS BY DAY.” 

Once upon a time in Tennessee, and possibly in some other 
States of the South, there existed an order which was called into 
being no one knew how, created a great stir for a season, and then 
died away as mysteriously as it had originated. Its aims and pur- 
poses were widely misrepresented and misunderstood, for while 
unique in its organization and methods, it was, in the principal 
object sought to be attained, not different from those voluntary 
associations which good citizens in many parts of the wide 
country have often been compelled to form when they found 
the law in their particular locality insufficient for the protection of 
life and property. The order of which I write was known to the 
general public at the time as the Klu Klux Klan, or, more briefly, 
the K. K. K., and was so obnoxious to those in power during the 
carpet-bag reign in Tennessee that it was a penitentiary offense 
to belong to it; no citizen was permitted to sit on a jury or give 
evidence in court without swearing he was in no way connected 
with it; and hostile grand juries were given inquisitorial powers 
in the effort to drag to light the conspirators who assembled by 
night at its summons and obeyed its unholy mandates. Yet, in 
spite of all this terrifying proscription, perhaps to no small extent 
in consequence of it, the midnight society grew and flourished 
apace, and during the brief period of its existence exercised a 
profound influence, at least, in those sections of the State to which 
its operations were confined. 

In its main purpose — the preservation of order and the pro- 
tection of life and property — this society of the K. K. K. did not 
differ, as I have said, from the vigilance committees and other 
like associations that at various times in our history have been 
openly formed in many of the States and Territories of the Union. 
Its grotesque methods, however, its peculiar organization, and the 


The K. K. K. 


48 

mystery by which it was enshrouded, distinguished it from all 
of these, and gave it a unique place in the history of such popular 
movements. Yet, these peculiarities were not, as may have been 
supposed, the result of whim or caprice on the part of its foun- 
ders, but followed necessarily from the troubled condition of the 
times. The emergencv that called the association into life was 
such as would have demanded anywhere the banding together 
of orderly citizens for their own protection, and yet an open or- 
ganization at the time was impossible, and, had it been possible, 
would have been far less effective than a widespread secret order 
whose very existence could not legally be proven and whose aims 
could only be guessed at. 

For two or three years immediately following the civil war 
the situation in Middle Tennessee may be fairly described as 
chaotic. Nearly all the white men there capable of bearing arms 
had sided with the South, and when those who survived the 
struggle returned home, they found farms uncultivated, homes 
devastated, cattle and work-stock confiscated, and the negroes 
emancipated. More than this, they found them'selves disfran- 
chised for their sins, the ballot in the hands of their late slaves, 
and William G. Brownlow in the governor’s chair. This meant 
to the recently disloyal that thev must look out for themselves, 
for they need expect neither aid nor sympathy from those in their 
own State who now held the whip hand over them. Parson 
Brownlow, as he was familiarly termed, had been a noted charac- 
ter in Tennessee for many years. He was a man of personal in- 
tegrity and of active mind, but seemingly without one drop of 
the milk of human kindness in his composition. As editor of 
“ The Knoxville Whig ” in the ante-bellum days, he proved him- 
self to be a master of invective. Clinging with obstinacy to his 
own views on all questions, through the columns of his news- 
paper he berated as scoundrels all who saw fit to differ from him. 
If he had been domesticated in Middle or West Tennessee at the 
outbreak of the civil war, he would have most probably out- 
Heroded Herod in his advocacy of secession ; but, hailing from 
the eastern division of the State, he was a most bitter Unionist, and 
literally, by means of his paper, “ dealt damnation round the land 
on each he deemed his foe.” The restoration of federal authority 
in Tennessee found this honest but exceedingly vindictive old 
man in the governor's chair, and he was about as much in place 
there as John Calvin would have been over a congregation of 


“ The Clan has a Name that is Nameless by Day.” 49 


papistvS or a devout Catholic ruler of the sixteenth century over 
a colony of heretics. When soon after the close of the war a 
deniand arose for the restoration of the ex-Confederates to their 
civil rights, the governor of Tennessee replied in a public speech 
that traitors to their country had but two rights he was willing 
to concede : one the right to be hung in this world, the other the 
right to be damned in the next. This characteristic utterance at 
least was attributed to him all over the State, and taking their cue 
from it, the Carpet-baggers, scalawags, and such disorderly 
negroes as these could influence, ruled the roost in the fairest por- 
tions of Tennessee. They terrorized whole communities, and 
neither life nor property was safe while their sway continued, for 
none looked to the laws as then administered to protect good cit- 
izens under the ban of disloyalty or to punish evildoers who 
vaunted themselves as friends of the government. 

The better class of the negroes in the State, to their credit be 
it said, did not sympathize with the lawless element that prevented 
their earning a support by peaceful labor, but their quiet protest 
was unheeded, as was that of the respectable white people among 
whom they dwelt. The example of a few lawless blacks in each 
community, however, soon had its eflfect on others of their race, 
and the idea gained ground rapidly among the recently emanci- 
pated slaves of the State that liberty meant unbridled license and 
the freedom to do as they chose. The times, indeed, were out 
of joint, and the returning ex-Confederates, who otherwise could 
easily have mastered the situation, seemed powerless to restore 
order. Nothing could be accomplished by them without united 
efifort, while any open attempt on their part to organize would, 
they knew, be regarded as an act of treason, and the leaders of 
such a movement subjected to instant arrest. 

It was under these circumstances that — whether in jest or 
earnest I cannot say — the singular society known as the Klu Klux 
Klan was mysteriously called into being. The general under- 
standing now is that it originated as a practical joke gotten up 
by a few mischievous ex-rebels to frighten negroes and other 
superstitious persons in their locality. If so, the authors of the 
plan must soon have been astonished at the startling propor- 
tions of the edifice of which they had laid the foundation. Their 
queer capers and ghostly garbs excited the terror of the negroes 
and induced them to remain indoors after dark. Rumor ex- 
aggerated their pranks, which doubtless were mad enough in 

4 


50 


The K. K. K. 


themselves. Their example scon found imitators, and before a 
great while serious men adopted the fantastic idea and sought 
to apply it to a useful end. A formidable secret society was or- 
ganized, numbering its branches by the hundred and its member- 
ship by thousands. The strictest secrecy on the part of the 
persons connected with it was easily maintained, since none of 
these dared to avow his fellowship with the order. Ghostly 
raiment and extravagant capers were found to be really useful 
features, striking more terror to the souls of the superstitious 
Africans than could the substance of ten thousand men, armed in 
the proof. Perfect order throughout the entire organization was 
easily preserved, for nearly all the members had been recently 
discharged from, the Southern army, and their leaders in the main 
were those whom they had followed through all the weary and 
bloody campaigns of‘ the civil war. Thus it came to pass that 
almost in a night there sprang into existence on the soil of Ten- 
nessee the most powerful and thoroughly disciplined secret so- 
ciety that has ever been known to exist on the American continent. 
Its influence from the outset was widespretid and beneficent. 
Good people breathed more freely when they knew there was a 
klan in their midst able to protect them, and the desperadoes who 
had infested the country in most instances fled before they were 
actually apprehended or molested. 

I have spoken of the organization of the society as grotesque, 
and this was certainly true. Not only were the most astonish- 
ing performances among its regular exercises, but the titles be- 
stowed on all its officials were outlandish and preposterous. The 
head or capta'n of each separate band was styled “ The Grand 
Cyclops of the Klan.” Above him was another official with a 
high-sounding title, controlling a dozen klans or so, and over all 
was the commander-in-chief, who was impressively styled “ The 
Grand Dragon of the Realm.” Each separate company of 
mounted men was called a “ klan,” and the men in the ranks 
were designated as “ hobgoblins.” The true name of the order 
was not ” The Klu Klux Klan,” but the master of ceremonies 
usually whispered instead on initiation night some very long hard 
word in an unknown language, with a supposed very deep mean- 
ing, which all were forbidden to repeat, and which none ever 
could remember afterwards. 

The peculiar feature of this order, however, and the one that 
distingushed it from all similar associations that I have read of, 


“The Clan has a Name that is Nameless by Day/’ 51 


was a standing judicial tribunal of three men, which formed part 
of the organization of each “ klan.” Without the order of this 
court — which, if I am correctly informed, was termed “ The 
Dreadful Ulema ” — no member of the klan could be punished for 
infraction of its rules, nor could any obnoxious character in the 
community be made to pay the ]>enalty of his crimes. But for 
this wise provision in the constitution of the order there can be 
no doubt that many hasty acts of violence would have been com- 
mitted by the members in different sections of the State. It must 
be borne in mind that the leaders of the movement desired to espe- 
cially avoid the commission of open deeds of violence, for a few 
such acts would have drawn down upon them the condemnation 
not only of the State, but also of the Federal Government. All the 
operations of the society were therefore conducted with the 
utmost secrecy and circumspection and its members at all times 
subjected to the strictest discipline. If one was arrested whom 
they thought the community should be rid of, the offender was 
not shot or strung up to a limb, but taken before “ The Dreadful 
Ulema ’’ for trial. The proceedings here were not conducted in 
the actual presence of the accused, and were usually brief, but 
extreme punishment was never inflicted if anything less would 
sufflce. If the prisoner was discharged without bodily harm, as 
often happened, he could betray no more than that he had been 
taken at night by a company of very queer creatures, had been 
instantly blindfolded, and had been released after a while, with 
the injunction to betake himself speedily to some other part of 
the world. Sometimes this injunction was preceded by the lash, 
which, you may be sure, when ordered, was well laid on. Some- 
times, in very rare instances, it was death. Then the community 
knew nothing more of the matter than that a certain obnoxious 
individual had mysteriously disappeared, and after diligent search 
by his friends could not be found. Whatever the sentence of 
“ The Dreadful Ulema,” it was obeyed; and without its deliberate 
sentence none were ever done to death or subjected to bodily in- 
jury by members of the klan. 

It may be inferred from what has gone before that the author 
of this entertaining narrative was himself at one time connected 
with the secret order he has sought to describe ; and while he is 
far from admitting such to be the fact, he does not mind stating 
to the generous reader that he was at a certain misguided period 
of his life an open enemy of the best government the world ever 


52 


The K. K. K. 


knew. He wore the gray, the author did, during the years i86i- 
65 — and, by the way, a very ragged suit it was he had on when 
the end came. Having returned home in the latter year a sadder 
if not a wiser man, and seeking to earn a support by tilling bis 
mother earth, he found himself in the very midst of the disorders 
of which he has made mention and in the very locality where hob- 
goblins by night did cavort. This being so, and the author be'ng 
neither deaf, dumb, nor idiotic, he was enabled to pick up a few 
scraps of information, which he now with pleasure imparts to the 
curious reader. Following the usual form of legal affidavits, he 
here avouches that those things which he has set down upon his 
own knowledge he swears positively to be true, and those things 
which he has set down upon information, he verily believes to be 
true, and, drawing his conclusions from both these sources, he 
wishes to go further and make the deliberate statement which is 
to be found in the following paragraph. 

Though outlawed by the statutes of Tennessee, and denounced 
in their day from one end of the country to the other, no associa- 
tion was ever formed in this country with worthier motives than 
this secret order of the K. K. K. No kindlier band of gentlemen 
ever assembled after nightfall in the deep greenwood, or rode in 
queer disguises the lonely highway by the friendly light of the 
moon. There is a streak of humor running all through the 
southern character, as plainly discernible to the eye of the moral- 
ist as a vein of fine metal in a rock to the skilled mineralist. The 
mystic order of which I write never could have come into being 
anywhere else except among these people. It never could have 
flourished as it did, mixing serious business with horseplay, 
except among these people. That just home from the war, with 
their cause utterly lost, and wreck and ruin about them, they 
were able to extract fun at all from the situation shows the won- 
derful elasticity of the southern temper. But they did, and their 
merriment was honest merriment, while their earnestness of pur- 
pose at the same time, and along with it, was unquestionable. 
Now that the queer order is a thing of the past, and most of the 
ghosts that formed its ranks have gone to genuine ghostland, I 
hope the reader will pardon this effort to rescue its memory from 
undeserved reproach. The author can say of a truth that while 
the society existed in his locality, he never knew human life taken 
by those subject to its mandates, nor any man robbed of his prop- 


The Clan Has a Name That is Nameless by Day. 53 

erty, nor any woman, white or black, treated with disrespect. 
That the hobgoblins when abroad were all armed and knew how 
to handle their weapons is not to be denied. That they were 
prepared on their raids to repel attack and meet violence with 
violence is not to be denied. That they were determined to pro- 
tect their homes and loved ones and banish certain disorderly 
characters from their midst is not to be denied. Fortunately, 
the mystery that surrounded the order, and the general convic- 
tion that it was a powerful and resolute brotherhood, sufficed in 
themselves to attain the ends it had in vierw, and this achieved, 
the members quietly disbanded. The dawn of day was then close 
at hand for Tennesseeans, the time for the restoration of genuine 
peace had come, and the secret order of the K. K. K. disappeared 
from public notice as mysteriously as it had been called into 
being. 

So it came about that when Randolph Pearson and his com- 
panions met the night after the Bascombe murder to form a 
league for the preservation of order in their midst, they adopted 
the constitution of the old order just described: 

First, because they found it ready made, and were saved the 
trouble of cudgeling their brains to devise another that might 
not have answered so well. 

Secondly, because the younger members present were pleased 
with the fantastic attire and grotesque ceremonies of the order 
they were about to revive, and hoped to extract some fun from 
a renewal of same. 

Thirdly, because Pearson and his serious comrades expected 
much good from the clause that provided a permanent court for 
the order. If this tribunal was composed of temperate men, mob 
law, in its most offensive sense, would be banished from the com- 
munity. The new klan would be strong enough by prompt action 
to take charge of all persons suspected of !ieinous crimes, and no 
punishment would be inflicted until after a deliberate hearing. 
When the murderer, Ankerstrom, was apprehended, it would 
be for the three judges to say whether he should be put to death 
at once or turned over to the regular State authorities for trial. 
Pearson was fully resolved that, if possible, the latter course 
should be pursued. He knew the infuriated people of his vicinity 
were bent on stringing the wretch up as soon as they laid hands 
on him, but he made up his mind that when even so despicable 


54 The K. K.K. 

a villain came to pay the penalty of his crimes, the slierif? of the 
county, and none other, should act as hangman. 

It was therefore with satisfaction that Randolph Pearson, when 
the organization was effected, accepted the position of chief of the 
advisory court of the klan, which was unanimously tendered him. 


Mr. Templeton Comes Near Forgetting His Errand. 55 


CHAPTER VII. 

YOUNG MR. TEMPLETON SALLIES FORTH TO UPHOLD THE MAJESTY 

OF THE LAW, BUT COMES NEAR FORGETTING THE ERRAND UPON 

WHICH HE IS BENT. 

Templeton, ridin^sf at a brisk gait, covered the distance he had 
to travel in about three hours, and reached the county seat before 
noon. Going at once to the jail — which contained apartments 
for the sheriff’s family, he found the officer away, but his wife, a 
pleasant spoken woman, said he would return sometime during 
the day. Thinking it advisable to await his coming, the young 
man proceeded uptown, and making the necessary affidavit, pro- 
cured a warrant of arrest from a justice of the peace against the 
absconding murderer. Placing this in his pocket so as to have 
it in readiness when the sheriff returned, he next inquired for the 
newspaper office of the village. It was only a few yards further 
off, on the same street, and dropping in, he found a little old dried- 
up man perched upon a high stool setting type. As there was 
no other occupant of the room, Templeton bowed to this indivi- 
dual and politely inquired for the editor. 

“ I’m him,” replied the person addressed, without for a moment 
suspending the business he was at. 

“ Excuse me,” said Templeton, politely, “ I mistook you for 
the printer.” 

“ I’m him too,” said the dried-up man on the high stool, pro- 
ceeding calmly with his work. 

“ Oh,” said Templeton. ” I see how it is. So you are both 
editor and printer, are you? ” 

“ I’m the whole push,” said the little dried-up man, taking off 
his spectacles now and wiping them with his handkerchief. ” I’m 
the establishment, that’s what I am,” and he came down from his 
stool, and walking up quite close to where Templeton stood, he 
viewed him critically. His manner would have been impertinent 


The K. K. K. 


56 

had not the visitor recognized it as that of a man who was at the 
same time both near-sighted and habitually on the hunt of an 
item. 

“ Whar you from ? ” inquired the dried-up man, approaching 
as close to Templeton as he could without treading on the latter’s 
toes. “What’s the news?” 

“ I thought possibly,” answered the visitor, “ that you might 
wish to know something about the Bascombe murder.” 

“ And the hanging of that nigger ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Got it all set up. Paper be out to-morrow. Full confession 
and everything. Whole thing in to-morrow’s issue. Price, five 
cents.” 

“ Whose confession have you got in the paper?” asked Tem- 
pleton, turning interrogator. 

“The nigger’s, of course. Whose else could it be?” 

“ How do you know he confessed ? ” 

“ Oh, they always do ; and if they don’t, we fix up one for ’em. 
Part of our business, you know. We fix up one for ’em and we 
fix it up right. The fellow that’s hung ain’t in a position to dis- 
pute a word of it, and the fellows that hung him they feel vindi- 
cated, and are well pleased, and come round and subscribe for the 
paper — see ? ” 

“ But, the fact is,” said Templeton, “ the negro did not confess 
in this case, as everybody knows. He died protesting his inno- 
cence, and the old lady, Mrs. Bascombe, revived before her death 
and charged another man with her murder.” 

The little old dried-up man who said he was the establishment 
here seized Templeton by the arm, and, without a word, dragged 
him to the rear of the room. 

“ How’s that ? how’s that ? ” then inquired the little dried-up 
man, cocking his ear round curiously at the speaker. 

“ The negro made no confession ; and the old woman before she 
died charged a white man with her murder.” 

The editor forced him to be seated on an inverted goods box 
that stood near a dingy window. Taking a stool himself on the 
opposite side, he seized a lead pencil and some sheets of crumpled 
paper that were lying loose upon the box. “ Now go,” he said 
to Templeton, when these hurried preparations were complete. 

The visitor understood by this that he was to proceed with his 
tale, which he did in a plain, straightforward way, and the com- 


Mr. Templeton Comes Near Forgetting His Errand. 57 

bined -editor and printer dashed ahead, covering sheet after sheet 
of paper, and so amplifying the details that Templeton hardly rec- 
ognized them when the story came out in print twenty-four 
hours later. When he finished — and he wrote more rapidly than 
the speaker could dictate — Templeton handed him a dollar and 
asked him to mail copies of his paper to different parts of the 
country, in order that the public might be put on the watch for 
the murderer. The dried-up man pocketed the dollar cheerfully, 
and, following his visitor to the door, informed him confiden- 
tially that just back of the town there was as good a tree for the 
hanging business as heart could wish, and when the real villain 
was caught he would take pleasure in pointing it out. “ Til make 
it all right and regular,” he said to Templeton. ” Startling con- 
fession — mob completely vindicated. Tell ’em to have no fear 
on that score.” 

Templeton thanked him for his kindly assurance, and, having 
no further business in the newspaper line, sought to amuse him- 
self by another stroll up and down the streets while awaiting the 
return of the law officer. Desiring to interest as many persons 
as possible in the capture of the murderer, he told the story of 
the crime to more than one group of listeners, and soon the whole 
village was familiar with the facts. 

About sundown the sheriff came jogging into town on a flea- 
bitten gray horse and the warrant of arrest was handed him. 
When he had read it he alighted in front of the store of Dixon & 
Dix — he had been halted as he was passing there — and, with the 
bridle rein over his arm, perused the document again. Having 
inspected it sufficiently, he looked around over the little group 
that had gathered about him and remarked : 

“ Well, consarn that fellow; I met him just now in the road.” 

“ Where ? Where ? ” inquired several of the bystanders at 
once. 

The sheriff was a tall, thin man of serious demeanor and slow 
spoken. He might have been mistaken for a preacher but for 
the fact that most of the preachers in those parts were Methodist 
circuit riders who were not of austere deportment, but usually 
chipper and free with their jokes. Sanderson — that was the 
sheriff’s name — was a man of subdued manner, and though not 
unsociable or uncommunicative, was inclined to take life sol- 
emnly. 

“ Where did you meet him ? ” they inquired again. 


The K. K. K. 


58 

“ Back yonder in the road,” replied the sheriff, meditatively, 
turning the paper over in his hand as he spoke. 

“ What did he say ? ” 

“ Nothin’ much, nothin’ much. We howdied, and talked a little 
about one thing and another Well, consarn that fellow. The 
sheriff here whistled softly between his teeth for a while and 
then inquired : “ Who swore out this warrant, anyhow ? Who 

is R. L. Templeton? I thought I knew every man in the county, 
but he’s a new one on me.” 

“ I’m Robert Lee Templeton,” said the young gentleman, 
coming to the front. “ I swore out that warrant.” 

“ You swore it out? ” 

“ Yes, on the statement of the old lady, Mrs. Bascombe.’ 

“ This nigger that was hung,” said the sheriff, eying him 
critically, “ what did he have to do with it? ” 

“ Nothing in the world,” the young man answered. “ He was 
hung under a mistake. There was great excitement, and no 
legal officer to take charge of the investigation, so they hung him 
without inquiring fully into the matter. It was just an excited 
mob, with nobody especially in control. I v/as there, and ” 

The sheriff looked at him inquisitively. 

“ I was there,” pursued Templeton, “ but I didn’t have any- 
thing to do with the hanging. I — I, in fact, was opposed to it.” 

“ You stick to that, young man,” said the sheriff, gravely, 
‘‘ because there’s a law in this country.” 

Templeton hesitated at this and displayed some embarrassment. 
He was among strangers, and could not tell what construction 
they might put on his admission. 

“ You just happened in, I s’pose,” suggested the sheriff, “ not 
knowin’ what was on the bills ? ” 

“ That was just about the way of it,” replied Templeton. 

“ And being there from curiosity, or in some such fashion, you 
was bound to see things without takin’ a hand in ’em ? ” 

Templeton acquiesced in this, feeling that it did not express 
the entire truth, but was sufficient for the occasion. 

“ Now, you stick to that,” said the sheriff, raising a long fore- 
finger and pointing it at him warningly, “ because there’s a law 
in this country.” 

Those present eyed the young man closely, and several nodded 
gravely to signify that the sheriff had given him good advice, 
which it would be well for him to heed. 


Mr. Templeton Comes Near Forgetting His Errand. 59 

After whistling again for a little while softly between his teeth, 
the ofticer remounted his flea-bitten gray nag and turned its head 
in the direction from which he had come. “ I’m going after this 
here Dutchman,” he remarked to those present. ‘‘ Does anybody 
care to go along ? ” 

Two or three volunteered, among them Mr. Bob Lee Temple- 
ton. Darkness was enveloping the earth as they wound their way 
down from the eminence on which the town of Ashton stood. It 
was now Monday night and forty-eight hours after the burning 
of the Bascombe house. 

“ He must be doubling on his track,” said the sheriff after they 
had proceeded some distance in silence. “ Looks that way to 
me. 

“ Why doesn’t he try to get out of the country? ” asked Tem- 
pleton, who was riding by the officer’s side. “ I don’t understand 
his hanging round here this way.” 

‘‘ Well, you see,” replied Sheriff Sanderson, “ the nigger’s been 
hung, which shows pretty conclusively that folks took him for 
the guilty party. The old woman, though, didn’t die right away, 
and she might tell tales before she died. So Cross-eyed Jack 
just dodged out of sight, bobbing up at first one place and then 
another to make believe he wasn’t hiding. That’s the way I 
happened to meet him in the road.” 

” He’ll find out pretty soon that the world knows the truth. 
Then he’ll leave the country in a hurry.” 

“ Maybe he will, maybe he will,” responded the sheriff, du- 
biously. ” There’s no telling.” 

I thought the instinct of a criminal was to flee as fast and as 
far as possible from the scene of his crime ? ” 

” That was in the old time, when a fellow had only to outrun 
them that was behind him. Now they send telegrams on ahead, 
and they follow on his track by rail. The sharp rascals under- 
stand this, and their usual plan is to lie low until the hue and cry 
dies out, and then steal off as quietly as they can. I knew a fellow 
once,” pursued the sheriff, growing reminiscent, “ that robbed a 
mail train. He was a boss hand at his' trade, that fellow was. 
One night he bought a ticket for some place and boarded the 
train like any other passenger. When they had gone a few miles 
he rose and went forward to the express car. The agent was 
sitting by the table, and there was a loaded pistol in the drawer, 
within reach of his hand. He’d been told always to keep a loaded 


6o 


The K. K. K. 


pistol in that drawer, and he always kept it there. He was sitting 
by the table adding up a long column of figures. When he looked 
up he saw a man standing in the door with a shiny pistol pointed 
straight toward him. The man’s aim was very steady and his 
voice very calm as he told the agent to rise and fetch him the 
money bag. That agent was in the habit of obeying orders, and 
he obeyed orders this time. So would you have done if you had 
been in his place. He picked up the bag, and such other things 
as he was bidden to pick up, and laid them down in a pile close 
to the stranger’s feet. Then he went under orders to a corner 
of the car and stood there with his back to the stranger and 
his nose stuck as far into that comer as he could get it. The 
stranger pulled the bell cord and the train stopped. The stranger 
jumped off with his bags, and the agent explained to the con- 
ductor as soon as he got a chance. They searched high and low, 
and they sent for bloodhounds, but they didn’t catch the stranger. 
The bloodhounds got on the track of a nigger fiddler and run 
him five miles and treed him, but that didn’t help the situation 
much. Big rewards were offered, and the police picked up a 
dozen different fellows in a dozen different towns, but thev didn’t 
get the right man. Where was he? Why, he didn’t go a mile 
from the place of the robbery before he stopped and went into 
camp. He picked a snug out-of-the-way place, close to water, 
and lived on scant rations there two or three weeks. Then he 
walked away and got clear out of the country without trouble. 

“ How did you find all this out? ” 

“ Why, in the easiest way imaginable. As soon as the fellow 
got a long way off from the scene of his crime, and thought he 
was entirely safe, he treated himself to a big drunk. It was in 
Kansas City, and as he undertook to run the town, the police 
locked him up. They found three or four pistols on him, and 
more than a thousand dollars in money. Being a stranger, they 
asked him where he came from. He told them a lie, and a rather 
clumsy lie, being drunk. To make a long story short, they held 
him a few days on suspicion, and then, having obtained sufficient 
evidence, sent him back to Tennessee to answer for the train 
robbery. He plead guilty when his trial came and took fifteen 
years in the penitentiary. He’s there now, I reckon, and a very 
sociable, gentlemanly fellow he is, barring his trade.” 

As the sheriff beguiled the jTurney with this narrative, the 
flea-bitten gray horse went steadily along at a fox trot toward the 


Mr. Templeton Comes Near Forgetting His Errand. 6i 


spot where his rider had encountered Cross-eyed Jack the evening 
before. After the lapse of an hour or more they reached the 
place, which Sanderson pointed out to his companions. They 
made a brief halt here and then followed on down the road in 
the direction the murderer had taken. 

“ Maybe he’s found out by this time he’s badly wanted, and 
maybe he hasn’t,” said the sheriff, musingly. ” I don’t think 
he knew it just now, or he would have tried to dodge when he 
met me unexpectedly in the road. No telling, though ; no telling. 
Some criminals are naturally scary, and some are bold as the 
devil. Maybe he knew the truth was out, but counted on my not 
knowin.g it.” 

o 

It was now past nine o’clock, but the stars were all shining, 
and they made their way without difficulty. The sheriff, after re- 
lating the incident from his personal experience just given, lapsed 
into silence and began whistling softly between his teeth, which 
was a way he had when he was cogitating. 

Presently they heard the footsteps of galloping horsemen 
behind them. They reined up, and in a few minutes a half dozen 
young farmers joined them. These riders had searched the 
country, far and near, for Cross-eyed Jack, they said, but had dis- 
covered no certain trace of him. Some person answering his 
general description had passed along the road they were now trav- 
eling, but they were not sure it was the scoundrel they were 
looking for. An imprudent member of the sheriff’s squad in- 
formed them that it was certainly Ankerstrom who had walked 
boldly along the highway a few hours before, and on receipt of 
this news they stayed no further question, but set out at once to 
overtake him. “ We’ve got a rope,” said one of the party as they 
separated, “ and we mean to hang the rascal as soon as we lay 
hands on him.” 

” There’s a law in this country, gentlemen,” remonstrated the 
sheriff, gently. 

“ So there is,” replied the fellow, and the very minute we are 
through with Cross-eyed Jack we’ll turn him over to the law. You 
may have his corpse, Sanderson, if you want it.” 

Going some distance farther, the sheriff and his friends came 
to a large frame house by the roadside. It was lit up invitingly, 
and from within floated the pleasant voice of a young lady singing 
to an accompaniment upon the piano. Here they halted, the 
sheriff said, to make inquiries. 


62 


The K. K. K. 


“ ’Light, gentlemen, ’light ! ” cried a rather portly old gentle- 
man, advancing briskly to the front gate. 

“ Haven’t time,” responded the sheriff; “ haven’t time. Major.” 

“ ’Light, ’light ! ” persisted the old gentleman, who from his 
hearty voice and manner evidently meant what he said. “ Get 
down and come in, one and all. Come in, all of you, and stay all 
night.” 

‘‘ Haven’t time, ” responded the sheriff ; ‘‘ haven’t time. 

Major.” 

“ Get down,” reiterated the old man, as if he hadn’t heard the 
officer. “ Get down and come in, gentlemen. Here, Bill, Jim! ” 
lifting his voice so as to be heard all over his premises. “ Come 
right along, you lazy rascals, and take these horses.” 

“ Well,” remarked the sheriff at this, “ I reckon we’d as well 
surrender,” and he alighted from the flea-bitten gray, the tired 
animal giving itself a good shake as soon as he quitted the 
saddle. 

A sleepy-looking negro fellow now made his appearance, fol- 
lowed soon by another, and the horses were led off to the 
stable. The music ceased as they drew near the house, and quite 
a stylish-looking young lady made her appearance in the front 
door. Templeton had begun to regret that his zeal in behalf of 
justice had prompted him to take such a wearisome night ride, but 
now, beholding the stylish young lady, and being young and 
rather susceptible, he congratulated himself that he had come 
along with the sheriff. 

After a hearty welcome had been extended all round, and an 
ample supper partaken of, the Major, the sheriff, and two or three 
other members of the posse comitatus engaged in friendly con- 
versation on the front porch, while Templeton and the young lady 
drifted accidentally into the parlor, where they soon became quite 
congenial. It was, of course, the dutv of the young lady to assist 
her father in the entertainment of his guests, and being a very 
conscientious girl, and a very capable one to boot, she discharged 
her duty on this particular occasion so thoroughly that I am quite 
sure no feeling of self-reproach disturbed her after she had bidden 
her visitor a pleasant adieu for the night. As for Mr. Templeton, 
I speak nothing to his discredit when I say that before the 
young lady rose and bade him good-night he had entirely for- 
gotten the matter that had brought him to the house, and after 
seeking his couch and sinking into the kindly arms of Morpheus, 


Mr. Templeton Comes Near Forgetting His Errand. 63 

he dreamed not of Cross-eyed Jack or the gallows-tree, but of a 
certain fresh young face that was fair to see, and his slumbering 
soul was soothed by the music of a voice ever soft and low, an 
excellent thing in woman. 


64 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER VIII. j 

IN WHICH THERE IS GREAT CRY AND LITTLE WOOL. I 

j 

The next morning early Sheriff Sanderson took a turn about i 
the place to see if he could learn anything as to the whereabouts j 
of the slippery individual for whom he had a writ of arrest. He 1 
found the negroes all posted concerning the hasty hanging of poor 
Sandy, and the discovery of his complete innocence after the mis- 
chief had been done and could not be undone. They were in- 
formed, toof as to the active part Cross-eyed Jack had taken in the 
proceedings, and from the rumors that had reached their ears 
were disposed to saddle on the shoulders of this villain the re- 
sponsibility for all that had taken place. A few of them knew the 
fellow by sight, but most of them did not and had no desire to \ 
cultivate his acquaintance. They regarded him now as more j 
devil than human, and feared it was his purpose to lay concealed I 
for a while, and then bob up somewhere unexpectedly in their 1 
midst with his appetite whetted for murder. 

“ You mout as well s’arch for a needle in a haystack,” said a 
wise old darkey, as try to find dat furriner twell lie git ready to j 
make hisself known ag’in. He’s hid out somewhar round here, 
and jess zactly whar he is de good Lord I specks knows, but I 
doesn’t. Mebbe he done gone in a hole and pulled the hole in 
atter him.” 

At this not very original attempt at humor the old man laughed 
heartily, and Sheriff Sanderson, who was polite to high and low, 
laughed too. I’m inclined to think you’re right. Uncle Davy,” ! 
he answered, about his being hid out round here somewhere, but 
the devil is more apt to know where he is than the good Lord.” 

” Dat’s de trufe,” responded the old man, shaking his head and 
laughing again. “ Dat’s as true a word, marster, as ever you 
spoke. Dis here Cross-eyed Jack and de devil is buzzum friends, 
an’ dat why he ain gwy be so easy kotch. When I was a leetle 


In Which There is Great Cry and Little Wool. 65 

boy in Firginny I heerd talk of a flyin’ Dutchman dat was buzzum 
friend to de devil, and dat Dutchman dey never could ketch. Folk 
seed him, folk heerd him, but when dey come to lay hands on him 
he wa’n’t thar.” 

“ Mebbe dis here’s de flyin’ Dutchman,” said a little negro boy 
who had been an interested listener to the conversation. 

“ Son,” rejoined the old man, solemnly, “ I got de same notion 
in my own head. Las’ time de moon was on de change I dream 
’bout dis flyin’ Dutchman, and de nex’ news I heerd Sandy Kin- 
chen was dead and gone.” 

The breakfast bell now rang loudly, and Sheriff Sanderson re- 
turned toward the dwelling-house of Major Habersham, having 
elicited no information of consequence from the negroes on the 
place. When he reached the mansion house, he found the squad 
which had ridden by him the night before was on hand, awaiting 
bpeakfast. They were all weary and hungry, but brought no 
tidings of the missing man. He had vanished completely after 
his chance interview with the sheriff on the preceding afternoon, 
and nothing could be learned of his subsequent course, except that 
he did not keep to the highway. When Sanderson heard this he 
announced his intention to return home, and advised the rest of 
the posse to do the same thing, as the rascal they were in search 
of was probably out of the neighborhood by that time. The fact 
was, the sheriff had concluded that no matter where Ankerstrom 
was the search for him should be conducted by quiet effort that 
would not alarm him. He therefore deemed it best to act as if 
he believed the fellow was not in his county, and at the same time 
to keep an incessant watch for him, so as to be certain not to miss 
him if he proved to be still lurking about in the vicinity of his 
crime. 

At the breakfast table the whole array, some twenty hungry 
souls in all, were sumptuously entertained upon fried chicken, hot 
biscuits, strong coffee, rich sweet milk, and other acceptable eata- 
bles and drinkables ; and not having a cent to pay, arose from the 
feast with charity for all and malice toward none, except Johan 
Ankerstrom, who was mysteriously at large and would not give 
himself up to be hung. As they mounted and rode off, they bade 
good-by to all, and received cordial adieus in return from the 
members of the family, excepting Matilda, the housemaid, who 
was distant in her manners. Sheriff Sanderson, on his fox-trot- 
ting nag, was among the last of the party to leave the premises. 

5 


66 


The K. K. K. 


When he had departed no one was left behind except Mr. Bob 
Lee Templeton, who still lingered with the Major and his daugh- 
ter at the front gate. 

Mr. Templeton lingered at the front gate because he had a dif- 
ferent route to travel from that pursued by the others, being 
bound now for his home in the adjoining, county. He lingered 
also because he found himself in pleasant company, and one as a 
rule does not like to leave pleasant company. As he stood at the 
gate, chatting and exchanging pleasant remarks, preparatory to 
taking his departure, the Major suggested that it would be better 
for him to remain over that day and take a fresh start next rnorn- 
ing. Mr. Templeton replied firmly that he had pressing business 
awaiting him at home and was bound to go. The Major in re- 
joinder said that he, Templeton, must be somewhat fatigued from 
the travel of the preceding day, and his steed likewise must be 
off his mettle, and therefore not in trim for another full day’s 
ride. Mr. Templeton in sur rejoinder admitted that his nag 
might be leg-weary from the previous day’s use, but insisted that 
his business at home was of such pressing nature that he must go 
forward at once and look after it. 

As Mr. Templeton thrust aside the Major’s urgent invitation 
to abide longer under his roof, and was in the very act of lifting 
the latch of the front gate preparatory to passing out and riding 
away it so chanced that he caught the eye of the Major’s daugh- 
ter. Miss Polly Habersham had previously seconded the request 
of her father that he should postpone his departure till the follow- 
ing morning, but she had done this in such a nonchalant off-hand 
fashion that the guest didn’t really believe she meant what 
she said. At least he had been impelled by her indifferent man- 
ner to the conclusion that she didn’t seriously care whether he 
went or stayed. Now, however, as he lifted the latch of the gate, 
turning his head slightly to one side at the same time, it came to 
pass that — as the saying goes — he caught her eye. Precisely 
what he read there I’m not able to inform you, but certain it is 
that the very moment he caught her eye his fingers relaxed their 
hold upon the gate latch. 

Stay, stay,” persisted the Major. ‘‘ If you start for home dead 
tired, you won’t be in any fix to attend to business when you get 
there.” 

One day more won’t hurt,” said the young lady, in the same 
careless tone she had used before. Then she leaned her elbow 


In Which There is Great Cry and Little Wool. 67 


I 


I 


on the top plank of the yard fence and gave the young man what 
they call an expressive glance. 

“ Major/’ said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, impulsively, to the 
head of the establishment, “ Fll be candid with you, sir. I would 
like the best in the world to stop over with you another day, and 
Fm going to tell you why. Last night ,sir, you delivered, as I am 
informed, an excellent discourse to some of the gentlemen of my 
company upon the state of the country at large. Owing to — ah — 
circumstances, I could not be present, but I would like above all 
things to be posted on that subject. Every man, I think, in this 
great and free country should have some knowledge of the state 
of the country at large, and I have therefore concluded to stop 
over, and — ah — inform myself.” 

“ Quite right, quite right,” quoth the Major, heartily. “ How 
can a man vote intelligently if he doesn’t inform himself ? ” 

“ I should say so,” chimed in Miss Polly Habersham. ‘‘ It 
seems to me, if I were a man, and couldn’t inform myself before 
offering to vote, I wouldn’t vote at all.” 

The young gentleman’s perfect candor on this occasion made a 
favorable impression on the Major, as perfect candor always has 
done and always will anywhere in this too deceitful world. The 
horse that had stood at the rack was sent back to the stable, and 
Mr. Templeton’s contemplated journey homeward was postponed 
till next morning. 

Several lectures were delivered by the Major in the course of 
the day on the subject of the state of the country at large, to all 
of which his visitor gave flattering heed. At odd times he re- 
lieved his mind by light discourse with Miss Polly, who, though 
not as deeply learned in statecraft as her father, proved herself to 
be fairly entertaining in her way. With music and chat, strolls 
and all that, she and the stranger within her gates whiled away 
the time till the sun went down and the stars peeped out and the 
lamp-lit hours slipped blissfully by, and the evening and the 
morning were the first day. 

When Mr. Bob Lee Templeton did mount his horse the next 
morning, and did ride away from the premises, he felt exactly as 
if he was leaving old and dear friends behind. The Major re- 
marked to his daughter that the young gentleman was a very 
promising pupil, and would soon come to know as much about 
the state of the country as he himself did. And the daughter re- 
marked to her father that he was a nice young man to boot, and 


68 


The K. K. K. 


quite a pleasant addition to her list of acquaintances. Uncle 
Davy, the hostler, publicly proclaimed that the departed guest 
was the most thorough gentleman who had visited the place since 
Miss Polly came on the carpet. “ I’m gwy tell you how I 
know,” said the old man, “ and den you bound to own I’m right. 
Bekase when I hilt de horse for him to mount he gin me a dollar. 
Right dar is whar he showed his raisin’. A picayuny white man 
would a gin me a dime, or mebbe if Miss Polly had made him 
feel right proud o’ hisseff, he mout a squeezed out a quarter. A 
tolerable nice beau would er let a half-dollar, or sich matter, slip 
through his fingers, but this here up-headed young marster he 
pitched me a dollar like he used to dingin’ away money. Hit 
minded me of de old times way back yander in Firginny, when 
my young marster went callin’ on de ladies in his gig, and I tuck - 
de middle of de road on a high-steppin’ horse behind him, bofe 
un us dressed to kill. Lord, Lord, dem v/as de days when quality 
folks walked right over poor white trash, and a gentleman’s nig- 
ger didn’t bemean hisself by no kind of labor.” 

Sheriff Sanderson, as he took his way homeward, laid plots in 
his mind for the capture of the fugitive murderer, and deviated 
more than once from his direct path to put this or that trusty 
friend of his on the lookout. A good reward had been offered for 
the apprehension of the absconding scoundrel, and if there had 
been none at all the whole community was bent on catching him 
if he stayed above the ground. Randolph Pearson in his quiet 
way rendered the law officer all the aid that was possible under 
the circumstances. The members of his newly organized band 
were assigned to duty wherever it was thought they could be of 
service, and a general and systematic search was instituted 
throughout the entire country. Telegrams were sent off to dis- 
tant parts, letters were written giving a full description of the 
person of the murderer, and the police in many different cities 
were notified that a cross-eyed villain, called Johan Ankerstrom, 
was badly wanted in the Marrowbone Hills, and a round sum of 
money would be paid for his apprehension. 

But though the sheriff kept his eyes open and his ears open 
for several successive days, and Pearson and the members 
of his vigilant band did the same thing, and numerous 
noisy volunteers, with dogs and ropes, scoured the country, 
not a thing could be learned of the whereabouts of the 
slippery individual they were anxiously seeking. The im- 


In Which There is Great Cry and Little Wool. 69 

pression came to be general that he had gotten entirely 
away, and would have to be sought for in some other part of 
the world. The sheriff reached this conclusion and announced 
it to his coadjutors over the country. The vigorous search was 
almost abandoned, and the minds of people v/ere becoming grad- 
ually occupied with other matters, when suddenly an incident oc- 
curred that at once threw the whole community again into the 
wildest excitement. 

At a lonely farmhouse some distance away from any public 
road, there lived a man named Hopson, with his wife and three 
small children. The poor man was a consumptive, too much de- 
bilitated to perform manual labor. He lived in a small cottage 
sadly out of repair, and possessed almost nothing in the way of 
worldly goods. Indeed, his lot was one of such bitter poverty 
that but for the charity of kind neighbors he and his household 
must often have suffered for the necessaries of life. The folk 
about him, though, were very attentive to his wants, and the Hop- 
sons were worthy people who deserved all the sympathy that was 
so freely accorded them. The good wife, Martha Ann Hopson, 
was a cheerful and industrious body, laying to with a will at some 
kind of work every day, and skimping all around in the manage- 
ment of household affairs as only a hard-pressed woman can. 

A basket meeting had been going on for two or three days at a 
church not far from the Hopson place of abode, and Mrs. Hop- 
son, with her two younger children, had managed to attend the 
place of worship, the elder boy, a lad of nine years, remaining at 
home with his father. On the last day of the meeting, after din- 
ner, some charitable soul proposed that the fragments be gathered 
up and donated as a lot to Sister Hopson. This proposition 
meeting with universal favor, several baskets of provisions were 
taken by zealous friends that afternoon to the Hopson place. The 
good woman’s cupboard was not only filled to overflowing, but 
many tempting things were left over, and these the three children 
set to work to devour, in order that nothing might be wasted. 
The two younger, having surfeited at the basket meeting, could 
not accomplish much in furthering this frugal intent, but the 
older boy did his duty nobly. He disposed, indeed, of such a 
quantity and so great a variety of edibles that when he retired to 
bed he displayed symptoms of uneasiness that did not fail to 
catch the ear of his vigilant mother. 

It was owing to the above circumstance, as she afterward re- 


70 


The K. K. K. 


lated, that she was unusually wakeful on this particular night. 
A little after midnight, hearing some disturbance among the 
fowls in the yard, she arose and started forth to investigate. The 
murder at the Bascombe place — not above four miles away — had 
made her nervous, and she undid the bolt softly and peeped out 
of doors before venturing beyond the protection of her roof. As 
she did so a man with a long knife confronted her, pushing the door 
open with his unoccupied hand in spite of such feeble resistance 
as she could make. She retreated a few steps, and, following her 
into the room, he ordered her in gruff tones to strike a light. This 
command she promptly obeyed, making no outcry, for she knew 
tha^ neither her little children nor her weak husband could render 
her any assistance. When the lamp was lit she saw that the rude 
intruder had unusually long arms for a man of his stature. He 
was bareheaded ; his uncombed hair was filled with dirt and small 
particles of leaves and dry twigs, and she shuddered when she ob- 
served that his eyes were badly crossed, for then she knew she 
stood before the demon who had burned the Bascombe house and 
murdered the good old woman who dwelt there. He carried now 
in his hand a common tobacco knife, but as these are intended to 
sever at a stroke the tough stalk of the plant, he could not have 
procured a more dangerous weapon. Raising his hand in a 
threatening manner, he demanded food, and the poor woman 
without hesitation opened the door of her cupboard and showed 
him all her precious supply. 

When she had disclosed her stores to his greedy eyes, the vil- 
lain motioned with his sharp knife toward the bare table, and un- 
derstanding this to be a direction to place food thereon, she 
brought an abundant supply, and covered the board with victuals 
of every description. While she was thus engaged her husband 
began to cough, and the murderer went on tiptoe to the bed, and 
displaying the keen blade of his knife, commanded him to lie back 
on his pillow, to which order the poor sufferer yielded trembling 
obedience. The three children all slept in a trundle bed together, 
and it was evident from the agitation of the cover that they were 
now awake, though dreadful fear kept them all as still as mice. 
From beneath a corner of the thin coverlet one eye of the little 
girl might have been noted, keeping constant watch upon her 
mother as she moved about the room. Now did the brutal scoun- 
drel seat himself at table, and, without ceremony or compunction, 
proceed to devour like a ravenous animal such things as had been 


In Which There is Great Cry and Little Wool. 71 

set before him. While with both hands he conveyed bits of 
food to his mouth, his hungry eyes roved over the numerous 
other good things with which the board was spread. When he 
had stuffed himself to his satisfaction, he rose, and taking from 
the shelf a figured bedspread, which was the poor woman’s pride, 
he opened it upon the floor and piled promiscuously on it as 
much food of every description as he could pack off. Going then 
up to the wife and mother, he held his sharp knife close to her 
throat, while a murderous gleam lit up his tangled eyes. He 
spoke no word, but she said afterward that somehow he conveyed 
to her his meaning — that they had better remain perfectly still 
in the house after his departure or he would return and destroy 
the entire family. Then he went away, carrying his entire stock 
of provisions on his shoulder. 

They were all hushed for hours after he had left ; indeed, they 
did not dare to stir until the darkness of night had fled and the 
sun of the following day was high in the heavens. Then one of 
the neighbors happening to drop in the fearful tale was told, the 
alarm was given, and the whole community again was thrown 
into fierce convulsion. 

A great crowd in a few hours thronged and surged about the 
Hopson cottage as it had surged about the Bascombe place a fort- 
night before, when the old lady lay a dying in the yard. Great 
was the tumult, loud and angry were the voices that arose on all 
sides, but vain was the endeavor to trace the midnight robber to 
his den, which, they all knew, could not be far from the scene of 
his persistent outrages. The sheriff came as soon as he heard of 
the affair and began a fresh search, but could not unravel the 
mystery of the outlaw’s lurking place. Barns, haystacks, hollow 
trees, every possible place of concealment was subjected to mi- 
nute scrutiny, but none gave up the villain whom all were seek- 
ing. No trace of the robber, house-burner and murderer could be 
found, and a feeling akin to consternation spread itself abroad 
in the community. None could guess into whose house the 
deadly scoundrel would next seek to thrust his ugly visage at 
night and without warning. Doors and shutters were fast 
bolted when the sun went down, and not opened again during the 
dark hours, except at the summons of some well-known voice 
from without. 

The negroes of the vicinity were, of course, more demoralized 
than the white people, and apprehension of being confronted with 


72 


The K. K. K. 


the now famous murderer accompanied them at every turn. In 
the somewhat lonely cabin of Patsy Kinchen there was especial 
trepidation, for the widow of the late Sandy was convinced the 
murderous foreigner had sworn vengeance in his wicked heart 
against the entire Kinchen family. 

“ I done told Pete,” said Patsy, the lad’s mother, to Pearson, 
when the latter stopped one day to see how they were getting on 
in their new abode — “ I done told Pete not for to go meanderin’ 
up and down de country wid no business on his mind, but to take 
warnin’ by his daddy which is dead and gone. Lord help his soul ! 
If Sandy had been in de bed dat night, whar he oughter been, he 
wouldn’t a got kotched out from home and hung. ’Stidder dat 
he must be up and gwine, bound for nowhars in particular, with 
dat little dog, Jineral Beauregard, at his heels. As for dat dog, 
Marse Ran, I hates to say a hard word of de dog, but he never 
sot no very good example for Sandy, and he don’t exercise the 
right kind of influence over my boy now, no he don’t. The dog 
ain’t feerd of nothin’, and Pete he ain’t feerd of nothin’, so, spite 
• of all I kin do and say, here dey bofe goes, up and down, and 
cross country, and everywheres. One of dese days — mind what 
I tell you — in some out-of-de-way place, with nobody else in hol- 
lerin’ distance, dey gwy run right slap up on dat Flyin’ Dutch- 
man. Den whar’ll they be ? ” 


Pete Kinchen Goes in Quest of His Mother’s Cow. 73 


CHAPTER IX. 

PETE KINCHEN GOES IN QUEST OF HIS MOTHER^S COW, AND FINDS 

WHAT HE WAS NOT LOOKING FOR. 

Miss Sue Bascombe, upon the death of her grandmother and 
the burning of the old family home, went to reside with a rela- 
tive on her mother’s side, who was in comfortable circumstances 
and lived not far away. The girl herself was no pauper. She 
owned now the Bascombe place, with the personal property at- 
tached thereto, and there was a little besides, in the way of notes 
and money, for the old lady had been frugal in her time. Alto- 
gether, while almost anywhere else in the world her estate would 
have been deemed a very small one, in the particular locality 
where she resided it was sufficient to supply her modest necessi- 
ties and establish for her the desirable reputation of being inde- 
pendent. She was a girl with a pretty good business head, re- 
sembling her grandmother in this as in many other particulars, 
and it was the general impression in the community that, if she 
remained a spinster, she would be more apt to add to her respec- 
table patrimony than to waste it. 

One morning, about a fortnight after the robbery of the Hop- 
sons’, as she stood at a front window of the house she now oc- 
cupied as a home, the girl noticed a little negro boy, with a small 
dog at his heels, approaching the residence in an unusual manner. 
An open wood lay immediately in front of the house, and the lad 
in making progress dodged behind first one tree and then an- 
other, as if he had been an Indian who was minded, when he got 
sufficiently near, to rush up and tomahawk the family. Not fully 
understanding the significance of these maneuvers. Sue kept her 
eye on him, and finally observed him crouch behind the woodpile, 
a little distance beyond the yard inclosure. Determined to ascer- 
tain the character of his business, if he had any, she left the 
house, and, advancing promptly upon his place of retreat, soon 
stood close beside him. 


74 


The K. K. K. 


“ Please, mum,” said the urchin, rising when she came to a 
halt and looked at him inquiringly. “ I’m Sandy’s little boy — ■ 
Sandy Kinchen, mum, what didn’t split ole Miss Bascombe’s head 
open wid dat ax.” 

As he submitted this remark Miss Bascombe took a calm sur- 
vey of the visitor’s person. His raiment was a long ragged shirt, 
not over clean, which hung upon him so loosely that there seemed 
imminent danger all the while of its forsaking his body and slip- 
ping to the ground. He was hatless, and as it was summer time, 
it goes without saying that he was barefooted. Indeed, his 
ragged shirt was his costume, and, that having been intended by 
the maker for some much larger person, and being without a 
fastening of any kind at the throat, was kept on seemingly by fre- 
quent shoulder shrugs and occasional clutches from apprehensive 
fingers. 

“ Please, mum,” repeated the lad, “ I’m Sandy’s little boy; and 
I seed him dis very mornin’ — me and Jineral Beauregard 
did.” 

‘‘ Seed who dis very mornin’ ? ” inquired the girl surprised at 
what she heard, and unconsciously imitating the boy’s tone and 
language. 

” Him, mum ; him what did split ole Miss Bascombe’s head 
open wid de ax. I seed him.” 

” You don’t mean ” 

“ Yas’m, I means him what folk calls de Flyin’ Dutchman. I 
seed him.” 

She looked at him for a moment in perplexity, hardly knowing 
what was best to be done under the circumstances. 

You ain’ gwy give me away, is you? Kase if you does me 
and Jineral Beauregard is bofe dead men.” 

She shook her head. “Where did you see that man?” she 
asked. “ Who told you to bring this tale to me ? ” 

“ Dey ain’t nobody told me. I went to find Marse Ran, and he 
wa’n’t at home. Den I come to you.” 

“ Well, tell me now where you saw this man.” 

“ You ain’ gwy give me away, is you? ” 

She shook her head. 

“ You ain’ gwy never give me away? ’’ 

She shook her head again. 

“ Wal, den. I’m gwy tell you. Dis mornin’ I was a huntin’ 
for de muley cow what Marse Ran gin mammy when he sot her 


Pete Kinchen Goes in Quest of His Mother's Cow. 75 

up a housekeepin’. She strayed off — de cow did — she all de time 
at dat — and never come home last night, but mammy she ’lowed 
she heard de bell way off on de side of de hill. Dis mornin’ ’fo’ 
day me and Jineral Beauregard we was ’bleeged to go for to get 
de cow and drive de cow home. We climb dong up on de side 
of de ridge, and when we done got most to de top Jineral Beau- 
regard he tuck out atter a rabbit, like I done tole him many a 
time not to do. He run dat rabbit, he did, round and round, un- 
twell he run him into de thick briar patch what grows close up 
agin de big bluff dey calls de chalk bluff. When he got in dar 
I heerd him a growlin’ and a snappin’ like he done run up ag’in 
sumpen he wa’n’t ’spectin’ to find. I crep’ up tolerable dost, I 
did, and den I lay down, kase I didn’t know zactly what ’twas 
Jineral Beauregard done run up agin in de briar patch. Pres- 
ently I heerd him holler, and he come running out’n de briar 
patch and made for the place whar he leff me. Den I heerd 
sumpen cornin’ behind him. I been huntin’ for de cow, and fust 
I thought it was de cow but den in a minit I know’d it wa’n’t de 
cow, kase it walked too light for de cow. Hit come out’n de 
briar patch, and hit come on to the aidge of de broom sage field 
what stand about de briar patch, walkin’ kinder tiptoe. It wa’n’t 
hardly light good, but I seed him, and I know’d him, and hit was 
de Flyin’ Dutchman. He stood dar a little while, he did, and den 
he crep’ back to’ds de briar patch. ’Bout dat time here come Jin- 
eral Beauregard crawlin’ on his belly, kase he done been to de 
place whar I was, and struck my trail, and he was skeer’d. Den I 
backed away from dar on my all fours, and soon as I got a little 
piece off I riz and run for all I was wuth; and I ain’t found dat 
cow yit.” 

He ended his tale here, and stood looking at her ; and the dog 
sat up dog-fashion and looked at her. It was an active little dog 
of the fox terrier variety, with its tail bobbed and ears sharpened, 
so as to impart to it a fiercer appearance than it would naturally 
have borne. 

“Where is the briar patch you speak of?” inquired Sue. 
“ Would you know it if you were to see it again ? ” 

“ Yas’m, I’d know it,” responded the lad. “ But I ain’t gwine 
’bout dar no mo’ — I tells you dat.” 

“ How will others find the place then ? ” 

“ Dar’s a dead tree dost to the aidge of de briar patch, and a 
hawk or a buzzard most all the time a settin’ on a limb of dat 


The K. K. K. 


76 

tree. Ef I could find Marse Ran I moiit take him to whar I could 
punt out dat tree to him. Right dar I’m gwy stop.” 

You say you’ve been to Marse Ran’s house this morning ? ” 

“ Yas’m.’’ 

“ And he was not at home? ” 

“ Naw’m.” 

“ Did they tell you where he was ? ” 

“ Dey say dey didn’t know. Dat’s de reason I come here. I 
thought you mout know.” 

Sue reflected a short time ; then she asked the little boy : 

“ Have you had your breakfast ? ” 

“Naw’m; me nur Jineral Beauregard ain’t nary one had our 
breakfast.” 

“ Come with me and I’ll get you something to eat.” 

She escorted the boy and dog to a spot in the back yard and 
instructed the cook to administer to their bodily wants. She 
then told the lad not to leave the premises until she dismissed 
him, and, going into the house, she wrote a short note to a young 
farmer friend of hers, named McIntosh, who resided in the imme- 
diate neighborhood. This she dispatched by a house servant and 
awaited an answer. 

Within an hour, McIntosh, as requested in the note, reported in 
person to Miss Bascombe, and she gave him the substance of the 
boy’s story. It was agreed between them that Pearson must be 
found without delay, as it was all important that the murderer’s 
hiding place should be surrounded before the sun went down. As 
the dog had disturbed him, he would no doubt suspect the near 
presence of some human being, and would almost certainly shift 
his quarters that night. McIntosh agreed to go in search of 
Pearson, and suggested that the lad be detained until the arrival 
of the latter. Pete was sent for and told to await further orders 
in the back yard, but he shook his head. Finding him indisposed 
to talk in the presence of a stranger. Sue escorted him back to the 
woodpile, where the conference had begun. 

“ I dunno nuthin’ ’bout dat man,” said the lad, pointing with 
his thumb back over his shoulder toward the house. “ I ain’t gwy 
talk where he is. He mout give me away.” 

“ Very well. I’ve sent for Marse Ran. You stay here until he 
comes.” 

Pete shook his head again. 

‘‘ Can’t you stay? ” 


Pete Kinchen Goes in Quest of His Mother’s Cow. 77 

“ ]\avv’m ; m3" mamni}" don’t ’low me to loaf ’round de country. 
She done tole me dat many times.” 

” I want Marse Ran to talk with }"ou. How can he see you 
if you go away? ” 

The lad reflected a while before he replied : 

“ You tell him to ride down de road twell he gits to de place 
whar de crick crosses it, beyant Marse Billy Winston’s. When 
he crosses de crick let him ride on slow a little piece furder. Me 
and Jineral Beauregard will be in de woods on t’other side de - 
crick waitin’ for him.” 

” How long can you wait there? ” 

“ I kin wait dar all day.” 

And you will wait till Marse Ran comes ? ” 

‘‘ Yas’m.” 

All right; he will ride down that road just as soon as I can 
find him and send him along. You and your dog can go now.” 

“ You ain’t gwy give us away?” 

No.” 

“ Dis here yuther white man in de house, he ain’t gwy give 
us away ? ” 

” No.” 

The lad turned and left the premises, with the ever-faithful 
General Beauregard at his heels. Sue walked back into the house, 
and Teddy McIntosh in a few minutes was off on a quest for 
Pearson. He found him about noon, and after a brief conference, 
Teddy was sent off to summon about fifteen or twenty trusted 
men, while Pearson proceeded without delay to the place on the 
highway where he was to meet the boy. McIntosh himself, and 
all the citizens he was to notify, were members of the organization 
which had been recently formed. The purpose was to assemble 
these as quietly as possible and capture the murderer before the 
general public had learned that his lurking place had been discov- 
ered. With this end in view McIntosh was instructed to be as 
reserved as the nature of his errand would permit, and to caution 
each man notified not to confer with others outside the order, but 
to go quietly to a designated spot to which Pearson was to re- 
turn after his interview with the lad. 

In the very nature of things, however, it was impossible to keep 
from the community a grave secret which had to be imparted in 
rapid succession to fifteen or twenty different farmers scattered 


The K. K. K. 


78 

about over the neighborhood. The very fact that secrecy was 
sought to be preserved perhaps caused the truth, or a suspicion 
of the truth, to spread more rapidly over the country, and it was 
soon generally understood that something was in the wind, and 
that Sue Bascombe could tell all about it if she would. Very 
soon this young lady had more company than she cared to enter- 
tain, and was asked more questions than she could politely parry ; 
so, being a matter-of-fact girl, she plainly told all comers that a 
secret of some consequence had been imparted to her that morn- 
ing, and that she proposed to keep it. Everybody then jumped to 
the conclusion that those in the secret had gotten on the fresh 
trail of the murderer, and, being determined to join in the chase, 
boys and men soon gathered from the four points of the compass, 
and, by following those who had been summoned, rallied with 
the members of the clan at the appointed place of rendezvous. 
Here they remained for quite a while, talking with each other in 
loud and excited tones, and waiting impatiently for they knew 
not what. 

Pearson, following the directions that had been given him, met 
the negro boy Pete in the wood beyond the creek, and was escorted 
to a rising piece of ground at a considerable distance from the 
road. A tall dead tree was then pointed out, about a half-mile 
still further on, and near the summit of the ridge which the two 
were ascending. 

“ Dar whar he is,” said the boy. “ Dat tree is on the aidge of a 
little broom sage field, and in dat broom sage field you gwy find 
at de fur end a briar patch so thick dat a hog couldn’t git through 
widout scratchin’ hisseff more’n he gwy scratch hisseff ef he kin 
help it. Right in dar is dat Flyin’ Dutchman, which is buzzum 
friend to de devil. Jineral Beauregard found him dar this morn- 
in’, and he dar right now ef he ain’t riz up and flewd off some- 
whars else.” 

Pearson noted the place carefully, and after thanking the boy, 
and rewarding him with a silver coin, he led his horse back to the 
road, and, mounting, galloped toward the spot where the others 
had been directed to await his coming. Here he found a much 
larger crowd than he had expected or wished to see. The captain 
and several others of the secret order were absent, and Pearson 
took command, therefore, of the entire assemblage, telling them 
if they wished to capture the outlaw they must proceed quietly 
and obey his orders literally. After proceeding a short distance. 


Pete Kinchen Goes in Quest of His Mother’s Cow. 79 

he placed himself at the head of about a dozen picked men, in- 
structing McIntosh, with the rest of the assemblage, about ten 
times as numerous, to follow on without noise or discourse a few 
hundred yards in the rear. This order was obeyed for a while 
with reasonable strictness, but as the crowd advanced they became 
more impatient and more unmanageable, and before they had ac- 
complished half of their proposed journey, they trod close on the 
heels of the advance guard. Pearson, in low tones, cautioned 
them all to be quiet, and, calling a halt here, he instructed those 
constituting the advance to hasten forward rapidly, while he him- 
self remained behind, and for a brief while held the crowd in 
check. 

The picked detachment now proceeded noiselessly with all dis- 
patch, and soon reached the small broom sedge field of two or 
three acres, with the locality of which some of them were famil- 
iar. Dispersing here as skirmishers they closed in promptly on 
the briar thicket thajt grew against the bluff on the upper side. 
Before they had quite succeeded in doing this the crowd in the 
rear was heard approaching again in disorder, for Pearson had 
found it impossible to restrain them. So tumultuously did those 
now rush forward that it was evident the murderer would be 
aroused to a sense of his danger, if he had not already made his 
escape. Rushing into the broom sedge field, where the dead yel- 
low stems of the preceding year stood waist high and in thick 
clusters, they pressed forward hurriedly, and without pretense of 
order, upon the skirmish line in front. While they were thus in- 
tent on reaching the murderer’s supposed hiding place close 
against th-e bluff, suddenly from their midst, and in the rear of 
most of them, a wild looking creature rose, and, without utterance 
of any kind, darted swiftly down the hill in the direction from 
which they had come. The front detachment, the men being a 
considerable distance apart, had passed him without notice, and 
none of those rushing pell-mell in the rear had thought to ex- 
amine narrowly the thick broom sedge to see if a human being 
was lurking there. 

“ Here he goes, here he goes ! ” cried a few of those next at 
hand, when the fugitive made his break from the midst of the 
crowd assembled to capture him. Then a pistol shot rang out, 
confused cries arose, and the most part for a few moments were 
uncertain as to the cause of the disturbance. Presently, however, 
they were given to understand that the game had been jumped 


8o 


The K. K. K. 


and was scurrying away, and, facing about as hurriedly as they 
could, they gave rapid pursuit, each man for himself. 

Those composing the skirmish line were in front when the out- 
cry was raised, and consequently brought up the rear as the whole 
assemblage faced about and gave mad chase down the hill. The 
pursuit was so reckless that the men engaged in it impeded 
each other in their efforts to make speed. Pistol shots were 
fired at random, and the foremost among the pursuers for a 
few moments found themselves in more danger than the fugi- 
tive himself. This wild shooting ceased after a little angry 
remonstrance, and the mob — for it was nothing else — set out 
on a dead run down the hill, determined to capture or kill 
the scoundrel in front before the chase was over. 

The murderer sped now as only a desperate wretch can who 
feels that his life depends upon his fleetness of foot. Springing 
madly down the steep side of the ridge, he did not take steps 
as a human being ordinarily would, but went forward by great 
leaps, like a hunted deer, with the pack in full cry behind him. 
It was plain to see, too, that he was making headway on his 
pursuers, and yells of vengeance arose in his rear, which prompted 
him to renewed effort. Shots were still fired at him by those 
nearest, bullets whizzed around him, but these neither pierced his 
body nor frightened him — as was hoped — into halting and sur- 
rendering. He felt sure that instant death would be his portion 
if he was caught, and therefore resolved to take all chances 
rather than become a prisoner. Now he leaped through bushes 
that patched from him fragments of his already scant supply of 
clothing; now he tripped and fell in his desperate race, but rising, 
sped onward without pause in his flight ; now tucking his head to 
dodge deadly missiles ; now running erect to facilitate speed, he 
dashed without thought as to whither his steps were bent, away, 
away, away from the mob yelling madly in his rear. 

Two or three vicious cur dogs, that had been brought along by 
their owners, now distanced all human competitors in the chase, 
and, closing in on the fleeing outlaw, began snapping at him, oc- 
casionally sinking their sharp teeth into his flesh, so as to cause 
the blood to flow freely. He heeded them not the least — most prob- 
ably in his excitement was scarcely aware of their presence and, 

with his whole mind centered on the supreme effort he was mak- 
ing, ran with all his might the desperate race before him. Near 
the foot of the hill was a narrow country road which he must 


Pete Kinchen Goes in Quest of His Mother's Cow. 8i 

cross, and as he leaped nimbly into this he found himself within 
a few feet of a man on horseback, who apparently had been await- 
ing his approach. 

“ Halt ! ’’ said the man on horseback, aiming at the same time 
an ugly looking pistol at the fugitive. 

Ankerstrom halted, and, looking up, recognized the individual 
who had brought him to a stand. It was Sheriff Sanderson. 
Pearson had sent a runner for him, and he arrived on the scene 
of action just in time to render efficient service to the cause of jus- 
tice. He sat now quietly on his horse, with his pistol directed 
toward the panting murderer, and his forefinger resting lightly 
against the trigger. In a few seconds the angry mob was down 
upon them. As they recognized the figure of Ankerstrom stand- 
ing close by in the road the foremost raised a yell of triumph, but 
when they caught sight of the sheriff and his pistol, they dis- 
creetly came to a halt also, not caring to bring themselves directly 
in range. 

Sheriff Sanderson was a brave man, and one who was minded 
at all times to do his duty as a public officer. He saw now, how- 
ever, that it would be impossible for him to protect the panting 
wretch before him from the vengeance of his pursuers, unless 
there were among those giving chase a few prudent men who 
could be induced to come to the aid of the law. Angry citizens 
now filled the road behind him and formed a surging line on 
both sides in front, leaving open only the narrow space covered 
by his pistol, in the center of which stood the scowling, panting 
captive. Casting his eye over the excited mass of human beings, 
he recognized Randolph Pearson standing in the rear, among 
the latest arrivals on the ground. 

“ I want ten good men to assist me in taking this fellow to jail,’^ 
proclaimed the sheriff in a calm tone. “ Who will volunteer ? ” 

“ I will,’' responded Pearson, promptly. “And I think there are 
others here who will be willing to aid in upholding the law.” 

As Pearson said this he pushed his way through the crowd 
in front of him, and stepping into the road in front of the sheriff’s 
pistol, he laid his hands on Ankerstrom. 

“ I want ten men,” said the sheriff. “ Who else will volun- 
teer ? ” 

One by one nine other men stepped into the road, and, each with 
his pistol in his hand, formed a guard around the prisoner. 

The sheriff then addressed those about him pleasantly. 

6 


82 The K. K. K. 

‘‘ You see how ’tis, men/’ he said. ‘‘ This here fellow’s got to 
go to jail with me.” 

“ It’s a damned shame,” cried an angry man in the crowd. 

“ It’s an infernal outrage,” proclaimed another. 

“ Let’s take the scoundrel and hang him to a limb,” shouted a 
third individual. 

“ There’s a law in this country, gentlemen,” calmly replied the 
sheriff. 

By this time Ankerstrom’s wrists had been securely linked with 
a pair of handcuffs which the sheriff drew from his pocket for 
the purpose. He snarled like a caged animal as they fettered him, 
but made no actual resistance, for he knew their protection af- 
forded him a temporary respite from the hanging he deserved. 
Pearson now stepped back a little way from the prisoner, and in 
a few earnest words addressed the embittered mob of men and 
boys about him. 

‘‘ I know you are all indignant,” he said, “ and it is not at all 
surprising that you should be. If ever a fellow on earth de- 
served hanging I reckon this scoundrel here does; but it doesn’t 
follow that we should take it on ourselves to do the hanging. As 
Sheriff Sanderson says, there’s a law in this country. If we over- 
ride that law, we not only teach others to do the same, but we 
bring our community into disrepute before the world.” 

“ When monstrous outrages cease, mob law will cease,” cried 
a man in the crowd. 

“ Fve heard that remark before,” replied Pearson, “ and, in my 
opinion, the man that utters it offers a very poor excuse for an 
indefensible act. The question for us, my friends, is not whether 
criminals shall be punished for their misdeeds, but whether in this 
enlightened age we can find no better method of suppressing crime 
than having angry mobs rise up in haste to wreak vengeance on 
the supposed offender. I believe — I know — this vile creature here 
to be worthy of death, but let the law be his executioner.” 

“ Suppose the law won’t do it? ” 

“ I’ll not admit that until I’m compelled to admit it,” replied 
Pearson. You need have no apprehension, my friends,” he con- 
tinued, raising his voice so that all could hear. “ This is a plain 
case, and justice will be speedily administered through the courts. 
Grave crimes must be punished, and promptly punished. Honest 
men and women must have protection against midnight murderers 
and other horrible villains. But trust to the law, trust to the law. 


Pete Kinchen Goes in Quest of His Mother’s Cow. 83 

Let us not advertise to the world that we have evils which our 
laws are incapable of redressing.’’ 

So Sheriff Sanderson and a respectable posse comitatus es- 
corted the rascal, Johan Ankerstroin, to the county jail. The 
crowd that had given such hot pursuit was compelled to disband 
without wreaking vengeance on the object of their chase. The 
search for the murderer of the widow Bascombe was at last ended, 
and the people of the community slept more soundly when they 
learned that the savage creature of whom all stood in dread had 
been caught running wild on the hills, and was now fast locked 
behind prison doors. 


84 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER X. 

BETTY HIGHTOWER^S HUSBAND HAS A PLEASANT CONFAB WITH THE 

sfieriff's wife. 

When Sheriff Sanderson had eaten his supper and smoked his 
pipe, he ordered two fresh horses brought round from the stable^ 
in the rear of the jail. He was a good farmer as well as an ef- 
ficient officer of the State, was Sheriff Sanderson, and known all 
the country round as an excellent judge of horseflesh. On his 
well-kept place, a little way out from the county town, he raised 
stock of all kinds for the market, and in his business trips over 
his bailiwick he often effected sales to purchasers who had ready 
cash, or whose credit was known by him to be good. Everybody 
understands that horse-traders, as a rule, are common liars, but 
Sanderson could be relied on to state candidly even the demerits 
of the animal he was offering to dispose of. He would have 
scorned to file the teeth of an old horse to make his mouth belie 
his years, and for no consideration would he have foisted a moon- 
eyed animal off on a customer at a time when the earth’s satellite 
was at a stage most favorable for the execution of such a scheme. 
In lieu of all such contemptible tricks of the trade, he sought to 
build up for himself a reputation for honesty and fair-dealing, 
and there can be no doubt about the fact that he profited by this 
course in the long run. 

To-night, as said, the sheriff ordered brought round from his 
stable two of his best horses, which indicated that he was minded 
to go upon a journey of some length. The animals, being led 
forth, were fastened to a rack near the gate, while the officer sat 
on the front steps of the building that was occupied both as a 
prison and a residence. 

Presently came one on horseback, and, reining up at the gate, 
cried “ Hello,” which is the common method of salutation in that 
benighted part of the world. The sheriff, without reply, retired 
into the house and soon reissued with another gentleman, who 


Betty Hightower’s Husband has a Pleasant Confab. 85 

must have been a particular friend of his, as he held him affection- 
ately by the arm. By the time these two reached the gate the indi- 
vidual who cried “ Hello,’’ had dismounted and unhitched the 
horses that stood tied to the rack. When the sheriff and his friend 
came up he assisted the latter to mount, and the three then rode 
away from the jail, proceeding at a leisurely gait. They did not 
pass through the town, but circled around it, and came on the far 
side into a broad, beaten highway, which they followed. The 
general direction of this road was down the Cumberland River, 
though for much of the way it ran at a considerable distance from 
the stream. It was known as the Coopertown road, and led to a 
burg by that name about thirty miles below on the river. If the 
horsemen were bound for this place, it was evident they had an all- 
night ride before them. 

As the three horsemen proceeded along this river road, the sin- 
gular circumstance might have been noticed that one of them 
traveled with his wrists fastened together in front, while his arms 
were pinioned close to his body by a strap that bound them firmly 
from behind. This man rode always in the center, one of his 
companions preceding him, while the other, the sheriff, brought 
up the rear. A rope halter was fastened to the bridle of his horse, 
and by means of this the individual in front led the animal along. 
The man with his arms pinioned could not have guided his steed, 
therefore, if he had so chosen. He might have leaped from his 
horse and made off on foot, but refrained perhaps from fear of 
being checked by a pistol ball from the quiet individual who jour- 
neyed in his rear. Thus they rode on in silence, nothing but the 
steady tramp of the horses informing the folk along the road that 
a party of mounted men were passing in the night. 

Several hours after Sheriff Sanderson and his two companions 
had set out from the jail a company of forty or fifty horsemen 
rode two by two down the main street of the village. It was now 
past midnight. The lights in the houses had all been extinguished, 
and the stores had been barred and shuttered until the following 
day. Deep sleep had fallen on most of the dwellers of the place, 
and only the aimless barking of dogs disturbed the quiet of the 
night. As the horsemen entered the town these dogs discovered 
something to bark at, and opened up with redoubled vociferation 
and vehemence. Signs of life now came from the houses along 
the way. Here and there a shutter was cautiously opened and 
hurriedly closed again. 


86 


The K. K. K. 


When the horsemen reached the square they came to a halt. 
About a third of the number here dismounted, leaving their horses 
to the care of the remainder. Those on foot then proceeded noise- 
lessly, but rapidly, toward the jail. All was dark as they ap- 
proached. Reaching the front door of the building one of the 
number rapped loudly upon it. 

A light appeared from an upper window and a woman’s head 
was thrust out. ‘‘ What is it? ” inquired this woman, in a high, 
shrill tone, which those below thought indicative of nervousness. 

“ We’ve got a prisoner here, ma’am,” replied one of the party 
at the door. “ A chap from Nashville that there’s a pretty good 
reward for. Ask your husband to come down and get him, for 
we want to be quit of him.” 

“ John isn’t here right now,” said the woman at the window, 

and he tells me never to open the door at night when he’s 
away. Come back again in the morning.” 

“ That’s rather hard on us. Where is John? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know ; uptown, maybe — I don’t know.” 

“ Tell us where he is and we’ll go hunt him.” 

“ Oh, you couldn’t find him, I reckon. I almost know you 
couldn’t. Come back again in the morning.” 

“ Mrs. Sanderson,” said the gentleman below, who was spokes- 
man for the party, “ you ought to know me. This is Watkins, 
from up on Marrowbone Creek. I voted for your husband the 
last time he run, and I’m going to do the same thing the next 
time I get a chance. You know me, don’t you, Mrs. Sanderson ? ” 

“ Why, for sure I That isn’t Billy Watkins that married Betty 
Hightower, is it ? ” 

” Just exactly who it is, ma’am.” 

Well, I declare ! ” 

‘‘ Let us in now, please, ma’am. We are all dead tired and want 
to get some sleep to-night. Give us the keys and we’ll lock this 
fellow up ourselves.” 

“ You’re right sure that’s Billy Watkins that married Betty 
Hightower? ” 

“ No mistake in the world about it, Mrs. Sanderson. I can 
prove it by all these gentlemen here with me.” 

“ This is Billy Watkins, ma’am,” asserted several of that gen- 
tleman’s companions. “ It’s him and no mistake.” 

“ Well, then, I suppose I’ll have to let you all in. It’s dead 
against John’s rules, but I reckon I’ll have to do it.” 

The head was withdrawn from the upper window and a 


Betty Hightower’s Husband has a Pleasant Confab. 87 

woman’s light step was soon heard on the stairway, accompanied 
by the jingling of keys. There was a fumbling about the lock, an 
impatient exclamation or two from the inside and the bolt was 
drawn back and the ponderous door swung wide open. 

A dozen strong men swarmed into the hall and surrounded the 
sheriff’s wife. “ Mrs. Sanderson,” explained Mr. Watkins, po- 
litely, ” we don’t wish to alarm you. We’re not going to hurt you, 
ma’am ; you may rest assured of that. We’ve come for that scoun- 
drel, Cross-eyed Jack, though, and have him we must and will. 
So please, ma’am, give us up the keys.” 

” Why, gentlemen,” replied the sheriff’s wife, pleasantly, “ John 
took that fellow away with him directly after supper, and where 
he’s gone to goodness only knows.” 

” I thought you said John was uptown somewhere? ” 

“ Oh, so I did, Mr. Watkins. One has to tell little fibs some- 
times in this business. You gentlemen surely understand that.” 

“ May we search the house ? ” 

“ Oh, certainly. I’ll go around with you. We’ve only 
got two prisoners just now; one a white boy charged with being 
crazy; the other a negro for shooting craps.” 

Watkins and Mrs. Sanderson went up and inspected the two 
prisoners, who were both asleep on one pallet. There was an- 
other cell or cage in the large room, but it was empty. On the re- 
turn trip Watkins came first down the stairway, while Mrs. San- 
derson followed, jingling her keys. When they reached the lower 
hall where the others waited they all stood regarding each other in 
silence. 

” This is bad,” said Watkins, after a little, in a disappointed 
tone. 

“ It is, indeed,” replied Mrs. Sanderson, sighing as if she had 
met with a misfortune. 

Then the men in the hall stood round awkwardly a few minutes 
longer. 

“ How is Betty Hightower these days ? ” inquired Mrs. Sander- 
son, politely. 

“ She’s well enough, I reckon,” answered Mr. Watkins, gruffly. 

Then the men, one by one, passed out at the front door, only 
two or three saying “ Good-night.” When they reached the street 
some indulged in profane language, while others laughed aloud. 
^Nlrs. Sanderson bolted the door behind them, and, going upstairs, 
resumed her nap where she had left off a half-hour before. 


88 


The K. K. K. 


It was broad daylight when the sheriff and his night-riding 
friend reached the respectable city of Coopertown, perched high 
on the banks of the swiftly-flowing Cumberland. They proceeded 
directly to a strongly constructed building, with barred windows, 
situated not far from the water’s edge, and here the three dis- 
mounted. By the cheerful light of day it could be easily discerned 
that the individual who had ridden between the other two men 
was decidedly cross-eyed and of repulsive visage generally. This 
individual was now turned over to the keeper of the strong build- 
ing and a receipt taken for him as if he had been a piece of bag- 
gage. This formality dispensed with, the cross-eyed man was 
locked up in a rather cramped apartment, while Sanderson and 
his remaining companion of the night ride sat down with the head 
of the establishment to a hearty breakfast. The party hobnobbed 
here pleasantly for an hour or so, for they were all on excellent 
terms, and before they separated Sanderson sold a horse to the 
head of the establishment, who never had occasion, that I know 
of, to repent of his bargain. 

Johan Ankerstrom, alias Cross-eyed Jack, languished in prison 
at Coopertown from day to day, and from week to week, and 
was by all odds, the jailer said, the most disagreeable boarder that 
had ever found lodging within the walls of his house. He sulked, 
grumbled about his fare and everything else, and when the least 
provoked, uttered guttural oaths in fragments of several different 
languages. Finally he called for pen and paper and wrote a 
scrawling, whining letter back to the home of his childhood, say- 
ing he was in a desperate predicament and needed help. The 
sheriff, having read this epistle through in the presence of the 
prisoner, thought he had summed up the situation correctly and 
promised to mail the document for him. This promise he speed- 
ily complied with, and never received from the vicious Johan even 
a thank for his courtesy. As to whether the recipients of the ruf- 
fian’s message treated him with equal indifference, the reader will 
soon be informed. 


/ 


Lawyer Slowboy Hooks a Client for the Firm. 89 


CHAPTER XL 

LAWYER PALAVER GIVES VENT TO RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION^ AND 
LAWYER SLOWBOY HOOKS A CLIENT FOR THE FIRM. 

Beats all the damned doings that ever was heard of,” cried 
Lawyer Palaver, clapping his clenched fist down emphatically 
upon the table. “ Why, sir, they ran my man round up yonder in 
that infernal hill country as if he had been a rabbit — chased him, 
sir, with dogs through a briar thicket and a broom sedge patch ; 
tore his clothes, bloodied his legs and sent bullets whizzing 
around his head while he was running. Oh, they are great fel- 
lows, up in that country, I can tell you.” 

“ That’s pretty bad,” said the friend, who was taking a convivial 
glass with the lawyer. “ What had your man done ? ” 

“ Done ? Why, sir, you’ll be astonished to learn he hadn’t done 
a damned thing except to flee from the wrath to come when a 
howling mob was at his heels. They’ve got no case at all against 
my man, I tell you. No case at all. Mark my prediction, sir, the 
jury won’t be out ten minutes, after they hear the judge’s charge, 
before they bring in a verdict of acquittal. No, sir, they won’t be 
out five minutes. No, sir. I’m damned if I believe they’ll ever 
leave the box.” 

“ How was it the mob got after your man so hotly? ” 

“No wonder you inquire, sir, and I’ll tell you just exactly how 
it was. Up in the Marrowbone Hills when a crime is committed 
they rise up and kill three or four people, and then take the 
trouble to inquire into the matter. That’s the way they do business 
up in that infernal country. Well, sir, you understand, up there 
somebody had murdered an old woman in the night. Bad piece 
of work, sir ; no doubt about that. Calculated to exasperate them, 
which it did. Well, sir, they rose up and seem to have found the 
right man pretty quick. Of course they made short work of him, 
but that only whetted their appetites. When a tiger gets a taste of 
blood he’s a bad tiger for some time afterward, and when a mob 


The K. K. K. 


90 

gets started up in that hill country they’re hell to stop. My man 
is a foreigner, and don’t catch onto things, you see, like our folks. 
When he found the whole country on a rampage he got a big 
scare on him and tried to hide. Then it was they got dogs and 
set out to catch him and kill him. So they would have done, but 
luckily he saw the sheriff of the county passing and fled to that 
officer for protection. That’s the tale, sir, and a devil of a tale 
it is, as I think you’ll agree with me. The sheriff brought the poor 
fellow down here for safe-keeping, and that very night the mob 
surrounded the jail at Ashton, howling for his blood. Oh, them 
fellows were fatally bent on rhischief, I tell you.” 

“ Your client seems to have had a pretty close shave of it.” 

“ Didn’t he, though ? He got off by the skin of his teeth, as the 
saying goes. It’s an outrage, sir, the way he was treated — an 
infamous outrage, and somebody ought to be made to smoke for 
it. Why, sir, my client’s folks are among the very best people up 
round Chicago. The Ankerstroms, I tell you, are highly re 
spected there. Thrifty, thrifty, thrifty. You haven’t met the old 
man, have you ? ” 

“ Never saw him.” 

“ Fine old citizen, fine old citizen. Distressed to death over the 
trouble his son has gotten into. Afraid it will injure the standing 
of the family. I tell him by the time we get through the shoe will 
be on the other foot. Certain gentlemen in the Marrowbone Hills 
will be shown up in their true colors, and the advertising they’ll 
get by this affair won’t help them much, I can tell you. Palaver 
& Slowboy have been employed for the prisoner, and when Pal- 
aver & Slowboy take hold of a case it doesn’t generally suffer for 
lack of attention ; I think I can say that much ,for the firm, any- 
way.” 

“ Yes, indeed,” replied the friend, wiping his lips after he had 
absorbed the contents of his glass. “ You might say a good deal 
more than that for the firm. Colonel, and not stretch the truth.” 

“ Possibly so, possibly so,” returned Palaver, waving his hand 
in a deprecating way. “ As to how that is of course it’s not proper 
for me to say. The world knows Palaver, and the world knows 
another thing damned well, and that is that Palaver never blows 
his own horn. One remark, however, I feel myself at liberty to 
make in this connection. One remark, which I make bold to say, 
sir, will not be gainsaid by any person familiar with the facts. 
Whatever may be thought or said of the senior member of the 


Lawyer Slowboy Hooks a Client for the Firm. 91 

firm of Palaver & Slowboy, upon the junior member, sir, there is 
no discount. Slowboy, sir, can be relied on under any and all cir- 
cumstances to do his best.” 

“ That’s saying a good deal for him.” 

“ It’s a high compliment upon him, sir, and it’s a deserved com- 
pliment. Wake Slowboy up at the dead hour of the night, if you 
will, with a demand for his services, and, damn me, if he don’t 
rise up and do his best. He’s a deserving young fellow, Slowboy 
is. Faithful, faithful, faithful. Not brilliant, I grant that. Not 
showy, not a man of parts, as — ah — perhaps some other persons 
are ; but, damn me, if he isn’t reliable. It’s the plodding fellows 
that make the world go. Genius is the poor moth that flits about 
the candle, you know. Well, you can look at Slowboy and tell 
he’s no genius. He was dull at school, and he’s dull yet, but he 
gets there all the same. Palaver & Slowboy, as I was saying, 
have this case in hand, and the finding of the jury will be ‘ Not 
guilty,’ as soon as it comes the jury’s time to speak. Maybe that 
will be the end of it ; maybe no, for I tell you in confidence I ex- 
pect to get heavy damages out of the lively gentlemen back yonder 
in the hills who run human beings round in the broom sedge with 
dogs and shoot at ’em for pastime. The first thing, though, of 
course, is to clear my man, and that, I tell you, will be as easy as 
winking. They’ve kicked up a mighty hullabaloo over this mat- 
ter, but their case when they get into court won’t stand up long 
enough to be knocked down, mark my prediction.” 

In this overwhelmingly confident way did Lawyer Palaver ex- 
press himself as to the final outcome in the case of the State of 
Tennessee versus Johan Ankerstrom, who now languished in 
jail, awaiting his vindication at the hands of a jury. As yet the 
prosecution had advanced no farther than the writ sworn out by 
Templeton shortly after the death of the widow Bascombe. He 
had been shrewd enough to waive an examination before a justice 
of the peace in the county where his crime was committed, 
and would now be held until the next term of the circuit court at 
Ashton, when a grand jury of thirteen good and lawful men 
would determine whether or no to present a true bill against him. 
As the assembling of the court was three months off, and the State 
as yet had made no effort to muster its witnesses against the ac- 
cused, it seemed a little premature for his attorney to predict that 
whenever he faced the issue a triumphant acquittal was a fore- 
gone conclusion. But Palaver was one of those sanguine indi- 


92 


The K. K. K. 


viduals who always believed, and robustly maintained, that every- 
thing at all afifecting his own future was going to turn out just 
precisely as he would like to have it turn out. He was invariably 
on the right side of a lawsuit, had facts and logic at his command 
in such formidable array that they could not be withstood, and 
was dead sure to win — until he lost. Then he gave himself up 
for a brief season to righteous indignation; damned court, jury, 
and everybody who was even remotely responsible for bringing 
disaster upon him, and, after thus venting his spleen, flung him- 
self with unabated ardor into the next case. 

But if Lawyer Palaver was prone at all times and under all cir- 
cumstances to take a roseate view of the future. Lawyer Slowboy 
was by nature rather inclined to go to the opposite extreme. This 
was singular, seeing that Palaver was bald-headed and spectacled, 
wlple Slowboy was in what is usually termed the first flush of 
youth, not having yet reached his twenty-third year. Neverthe- 
less, Slowboy was cautious, disposed to magnify the obstacles he 
always saw in front of him, and inclined to place altogether too 
modest an estimate upon his own abilties. During the progress of 
a lawsuit he was nervously apprehensive as to the result, until the 
conclusion brought either success or defeat to his cause. If 
victory perched upon his banner, he sung the praises of Palaver, 
declaring that the result was attributable alone to the unexampled 
genius of that gentleman. If the firm encountered defeat, Slow- 
boy took all the blame on himself, and maintained among his as- 
sociates that if he had only done thus and so, instead of this way 
and that, the final outcome in all probability would have been dif- 
ferent. 

Slowboy, as the reader needs not to be told, was an enthusiastic 
admirer of his chieftain, Palaver. When but a small lad he had 
sat on the hard benches in the rear of the court-room and listened 
open-mouthed as eloquence flowed in unbroken current from the 
lips of the gifted gentleman. He imagined — Slowboy did — that 
if he could be brought in close communion with so talented a per- 
son, his fortune would be made. His mother, fortunately, was 
kin to somebody who was kin to Palaver, and by this roundabout 
means the desirable arrangement was at last effected. Slowboy 
went into Palaver’s office as a sort of clerk and general underling, 
having the fact impressed upon him that if he was faithful and 
diligent he might, after a while, hope to rise. If ever a youth on 
this earth was faithful and diligent, Slowboy was faithful and 


Lawyer Slowboy Hooks a Client for the Firm. 93 

diligent in the office of Lawyer Palaver. It could not be truthfully 
said of him that he cleaned the windows and swept the floor, and 
polished up the handle of the big front door, because, as a matter 
of fact this particular service was not rendered by any one ; 
but certain it is that everything else in the way of drudgery 
that was done at all was done by Slowboy. Finally, as 
the planet upon which he abode revolved around the sun 
the legs of the patient underling lengthened, and he passed 
from the gosling stage into one where his voice more 
nearly resembled that of a human being. Then the girls 
began to call him Mr. Slowboy, and he felt proud. A respect- 
able middle-aged lady in the community also felt proud, for 
he was the only son of his mother, and she a widow. By this 
time he had come to write a neat, clerkly hand, being very pains- 
taking in whatever he undertook. He had also, by much cudgel- 
ing of his brains, gotten himself well-grounded in the elementary 
principles of the law. If he didn’t understand a proposition laid 
down in a text-book, he went back and tackled it again, and 
wrestled with it till he did understand it, and when he once got 
it into his head it was there to stay. As for oratory, he used to 
bemoan in secret to his mother the fact that the English language 
wasn’t at his command when he needed it, and that his exasper- 
ating mind wouldn’t work when he wanted it to work. The older 
lawyers patronized him, as older lawyers can always be relied on 
to do, and fed him with the hope that if he would only keep ever- 
lastingly at it, he might, in time, climb to the dizzy height on 
which they stood. Thus encouraged, Slowboy kept plodding 
along. After some years of faithful service the auspicious morn- 
ing dawned on which the firm of Palaver & Slowboy solicited 
their share of public patronage, and then his cup of happiness was 
full. The articles of agreement were not, perhaps, as definite as 
they might have been at the outset, but in time there grew up be- 
tween them a sort of understanding to the effect that Slowboy 
should do nearly all the work, and Palaver should take nearly all 
the money, and this arrangement was entirely satisfactory to both 
parties. 

Some weeks before the conversation narrated in the opening of 
this chapter it happened that Slowboy sitting in his office, and 
endeavoring to extract the kernel from a recent decision of the 
Tennessee Supreme Court, was interrupted by a modest tap upon 
his door. Bidding the person without to open and enter, he saw 




94 


The K. K. K. 


first a bared gray head obtruded into the apartment, and next the 
diminutive person of an individual evidently considerably advanc- 
ed in years, but still brisk and alert of movement. The little old 
gentleman held his hat in his hand, and bowed very low to Slow- 
boy before making known his business, or even venturing forward 
to take the chair that was politely proffered him. When he did 
take a chair he hitched the heels of his shoes on the bottom round 
thereof, and sat with his knees unduly elevated, and supporting his 
elbows, which rested comfortably upon them. This attitude, which 
was partially justified by the visitor’s shortness of legs, was never- 
theless, in the opinion of the attorney, unbecoming and ungentle- 
manly, and Slowboy, therefore, at the very outset of their ac- 
quaintance viewed the little old gentleman with suspicion. There 
was also an air of humility about him not common with those 
who are accustomed to meet in daily intercourse none but their 
equals, and, moreover — a circumstance which Slowboy did not 
fail to note — his raiment was brand new, but of that quality which 
is usually handed down for inspection from the shelves of cheap 
clothing stores. 

When the old gentleman had taken a seat, and hooked his heels 
firmly to the round of his chair, and propped his elbows comfort- 
ably upon his knees, he inspected the entire apartment critically, 
as if taking a mental inventory of all the articles of value which 
it contained. When he had completed his survey he turned to 
Slowboy and addressed him with suavity. 

“ Kernell Perlaffer, vere is he ? ” 

“ He’s out,” replied Slowbc^, sententiously. 

“ Ah ! ” said the little old gentleman. “ You are den perhaps 
de young man ? ” ' 

“ Tm his partner,” answered Slowboy, with some pride mani- 
fested in his tone. “ Palaver & Slowboy is the firm.” 

“ Ah ! ” said the little old gentleman, bowing again respectfully 
to Slowboy. “ Dat is so ? Dat is so ? Perlaffer & Slowboy. Ah ! 
Dat is so ? Dis is Mister Slowboy, den ? ” 

Slowboy bowed. 

“ Mister Slowboy,” said the little old gentleman, rising and ex- 
tending his hand, “ I haff de pleasure.” ^ 

The lawyer accepted the extended hand and gave it a not very 
cordial shake. The old gentleman then resumed his seat and 
opened discussion upon the business that had brought him thither. 
“ Mister Slowboy,” he began — and the lawyer could not help 


Lawyer Slowboy Hooks a Client for the Firm. 95 

thinking there was veiled irony in the emphasis placed on the pre- 
fix to his name — “I haff a case in de courts here, and vish to know 
vat you sharge for taking mine case for me. Pizness is pizness.” 

“ What is your case? ” inquired the attorney. 

“ I haff a son, a mizerble, onhappy son, vat lies down here in de 
shail. S’help me, such a thing never did happen to one of de fam- 
bly befo’, but it haff happened now. My son lies in de shail, and 
I vould get him out of de shail, and I speaks to you as mine frient, 
and mine lawyer. Vot you sharge to take de case, hey? ” 

“ Ankerstrom is your name,” asserted Slowboy, who had 
learned that one of the few white persons in the county prison 
was a foreigner named Ankerstrom, charged with murder. 

“ Yes, yes, yes. I vill not deny my name. ’Tis a coot name. 
S’help me, de name never vas in throoble befo’. Vat you sharge 
me? ” 

“ Your son is accused of the murder of an old lady in the 
county above this ? ” 

“ Ah, yes, yes. Mine poor poy. He is lacking here.” And 
the old gentleman tapped his forehead with his finger significantly 
two or three times. “ He is lacking ; the poor poy is lacking. De 
doctor vill tell you so. He is likevise innocent as de new porn 
pabe. Vat you sharge me?” 

Five hundred dollars,” said Slowboy, at a venture. 

“ Mein Cot ! ” cried the old gentleman, rising and dancing 
about the room as if the lawyer’s unexpected reply had literally 
knocked him silly. “ Ah, mein Cot ! No, no ! I have not de 
money, young shentleman. You mistake me for Fanterpilt, a 
Shay Cool, a Shon Shacob Astor, or peebles of dat kind. Five 
hundred dollars! Ter plessed Moses! No, no; no, no! Mine 
son must, hang! My poor innocent shild must hang! Five hun- 
dred dollars ! I haff not got de money.” The old gentleman here 
sat down again and bowed his head in his hands for a while; 
then he raised it and addressed the lawyer respectfully: 

“ Dere are otter lawyers in dis town ? ” 

“ Plenty of ’em,” answered Slowboy. 

‘‘ Coot lawyers, too, I make no doubt ? ” 

“ First rate, first rate,” answered Slowboy, heartily. “ None 
better in the State.” 

“ Meppe dey vill not pe so hard upon me? ” 

“ Maybe not,” answered Slowboy. “ I advise you to try one of 


The K. K. K. 


96 

The old gentleman here sunk his head in his liands again in 
deep despondency; then he raised it and once more addressed 
the hardened youth before him : 

“ Kernell Perlaffer, vot time vill he be in ? ” 

“ Can’t say,” answered Slowboy. “ Most any time.” 

“ Veil, I must go to de shall to see mine poy. By two-thretty 
ten I pe pack. At dat time I see Kernell Perlafifer. Five hun- 
dred dollars ! No, no ! I half not got de money.” 

With these words the old gentleman withdrew, and Slowboy 
sent a runner round the town to notify the senior member of the 
firm that there was business awaiting at the office. When Palaver 
came in they discussed the question of the fee. 

“ You put it too low,” said the senior member of the firm. “ A 
thousand dollars would have been about the figure. Murder case ; 
two or three trips to supreme court and back ; trial in another 
county ; half-dozen continuances ; change of venue ; damn me, if 
a thousand dollars is a bit too high ! ” 

“ He swears he can’t pay five hundred dollars.” 

“ Pie’s a liar. Pie belongs, no doubt, to a gang of Chicago 
swindlers, who always help each other out in time of trouble. I’ve 
had some dealings with these scoundrels, and they pay well. Five 
hundred dollars will do, though, Slowboy. Five hundred dollars 
will help keep the pot boiling. Five hundred you’ve said, and five 
hundred it shall be. What time will the old scoundrel be in ? ” 

“Half-past two.” 

“ All right ; I’ll be here.” 

And at half-past two Colonel Palaver was on hand, and the 
little old gentleman was on hand also, and negotiations between 
them were conducted to a satisfactory conclusion. The old gen- 
tleman protested that he did not have five hundred dollars, and 
could by no possibility raise five hundred dollars, but the Colonel 
was obdurate, and the bargain was struck. Upon one point the 
old gentleman was as obstinate as the lawyer. He flatly refused 
to pay the entire fee in advance, though when the two men came 
down to business he did not deny that ho had the money in his 
trousers pockets with which to liquidate the obligation. He finally 
paid down, as a retainer fee, twenty-five per cent, of the sum total, 
or one hundred and twenty-five dollars, in legal currency of the 
United States. The remaining three hundred and seventy-five 
dollars was then deposited in bank under a written agreement be- 
tween the parties that no part of it should be drawn out until the 


Lawyer Slowboy Hooks a Client for the Firm. 97 

conclusion of the case, and then only upon a check to be signed 
by both lawyer and client. To this agreement, deposited with 
the banker, the little old gentleman signed his name, ‘‘ Olof An- 
kerstrom,” in a respectable hand-writing that compared well with 
the scrawl of the attorney above it. 

Just here it may not be amiss to put in a word or two concern- 
ing the Ankerstrom family of Chicago and elsewhere. It was an 
enterprising family in its way, consisting of the little old gentle- 
man and some half-dozen sons and daughters, who had been ac- 
customed from infancy to dodge and hide and look out for them- 
selves, about as young foxes do. Johan was regarded as the least 
promising of the flock. He was not so keen-witted as the others, 
and was far more brutal by nature than any of the rest. The old 
gentleman really expressed the family opinion when he tapped his 
forehead and said to Slowboy that Johan was lacking. He was 
lacking, just as many another human brute is lacking who has 
nothing like a conscience to restrain him from the gratification of 
his basest animal impulses. Whatever his vile nature prompted 
him to do, he did, unless fear of immediate apprehension and pun- 
ishment deterred him. The other members of his family despised 
him ; they held their heads considerably above him ; they would 
have been glad at any moment to hear of his death, but they 
always came to his rescue when he got in trouble. That they did 
not shake him and carry out their oft-repeated threats to wash 
their hands of him for good and all, can only be explained upon 
the principle that family ties throughout the entire animal king- 
dom are mysteriously strong. Hogs are by nature the least sym- 
pathetic of all the brutes. They will jostle each other uncere- 
moniously from the feed trough, and pass and repass habitually 
without even the courtesy of a friendly grunt. But let a maraud- 
ing shote get his head stuck fast in the crack of a fence and send 
forth a lusty squeal for aid, round him will rally quickly his sis- 
ters, his cousins and his aunts, together with all his bachelor rela- 
tions, and with their bristles turned the wrong way the whole tribe 
will go in, forgetful of themselves, to render such assistance as 
they can to a supplicating brother in distress. 

So it was when Johan Ankerstrom found himself behind the 
bars of the Coopertown jail, with a charge laid against him that 
might rid him of his worthless life, he sent forth such a squeal 
that it reached the ears of his kinsmen beyond the Ohio River, as 
he intended it should. And so it was when the family heard that 

7 


The K. K. K. 


98 

Johan was once more in trouble, they called a council, and 
cursed him, and damned him, and wished him well out of the 
world, and not only out of the world, but in a very hot place 
which is supposed to exist somewhere beyond the confines of this 
earth. These preliminaries through, they got down to business, 
raised a substantial purse and dispatched the old man south to see 
what could be done in behalf of Johan. Journeying southward, 
the old man reached Coopertown, as we know, and employed able 
counsel to represent his son in the courts. He also hung around 
the jail here for some time, winning the sympathy of many by 
his pious aspect and dejected countenance. When the time came 
for him to take his departure, he shook hands cordially with all 
the jailer’s family and presented his unfortunate offspring with 
a copy of the Old Testament Scriptures, in one of the heavy cov- 
ers of which he had deftly inserted a very slender steel saw of 
excellent temper. This parental duty discharged, he bestowed his 
blessing upon the household and went his way for a season. 


/ 


/ 

/ 


/ 



/ 

/ 

/ 



/ 


/ 


The Case is Continued to the Following Term. 99 


CHAPTER XII. 

THERE BEING UNDUE EXCITEMENT IN THE PUBLIC MIND THE CASE 
OF THE STATE VERSUS ANKERSTROM IS CONTINUED TO THE FOL- 
LOWING TERM. 

While the old gentleman was making praiseworthy effort in 
different ways to extricate his son from the perilous position in 
which he found him, Mr. Bob Lee Templeton neither slumbered 
nor slept in his anxious desire to bring this same son to close ac- 
quaintanceship with the hangman as speedily as possible. On the 
night when Sandy Kinchen shuffled off his mortal coil under the 
gallows-tree, Templeton, as will be remembered, plead for the 
law, maintaining that it was in all respects sufficient for the trial 
and punishment of criminals, and that society must look to the 
law alone for redress of its wrongs. Now, when the brutal scoun- 
drel — who ought to have died in Sandy’s place — was apprehended 
and turned over to the sheriff, Templeton felt it incumbent upon 
him to make good his assertion that the law could be relied on to 
deal with evildoers, and he set to work to aid the law to the extent 
of his ability. He was young, had leisure, some money not needed 
for his immediate necessities, and he did not object, for more rea- 
sons than one, to putting in a considerable part of his time in and 
about the region known as the Marrowbone Hills. He became 
quite intimate here with Pearson, who was working up the case in 
a quiet but effectual manner, and with others who were bending 
their efforts in the same direction. He also, by occasional inter- 
views with Major Habersham, was enabled to inform himself 
pretty well as to the state of the country, and at each of his visits 
for this purpose he managed to while away a little time in the 
society of the Major’s daughter without being desperately 
bored. 

There were a half-dozen counties in the judicial circuit, and 
neither the judge nor the attorney-general resided in that in which 
Ankerstrom was to be arraigned and tried, Twice a year they 

L. of C. 


100 


The K. K. K. 


rode into the town of Ashton, and devoted themselves for two 
weeks to the task of clearing the docket of such cases as they 
found awaiting them. Usually more than half of this limited 
period was consumed by the judge in hearing civil cases, and fully 
half of the time of the attorney-general was taken up in drawing 
indictments and examining witnesses before the grand jury, to the 
end that fresh grist might be brought before the judicial mill to 
be ground. When the two weeks had elapsed the grand and petit 
juries were discharged, the minutes of the court were signed, and 
the judge and the State’s officer betook themselves to another 
county to begin over again the process of administering justice 
and upholding the majesty of the law. 

The fall term of the court at Ashton began on the first Monday 
in September, and, as it was important to* use dispatch, all the wit- 
nesses in the Ankerstrom case had been summoned, and were on 
hand ready to give evidence before the grand jury. Both Tem- 
pleton and Pearson had labored to secure their attendance; and, 
when mustered, there was a goodly array of them, for as a matter 
of precaution every person who knew anything of the case, either 
by hearsay or otherwise, had been brought to court. The attorney- 
general was a middle-aged gentleman, of somewhat nervous tem- 
perament, and rather prone to lose his temper on slight provoca- 
tion, but capable of getting through with a good deal of business 
in the course of the day. He conversed on this occasion privately 
with a good many persons, young and old, black and white, male 
and female, who had been summoned to testify against divers of- 
fenders, and embodied the substance of the information thus ob- 
tained in indictments which he drew hurriedly for the considera- 
tion of the grand jury. Somewhat to the annoyance of Mr. Bob 
Lee Templeton, he postponed speaking to the witnesses in the 
Ankerstrom case until late in the afternoon, and after his confer- 
ence informed them that they must all come back the next day, as 
he would not have time to draw so important an indictment until 
he went to his room that night. This announcement caused grave 
dissatisfaction among the witnesses, and Templeton indulged 
in some censure upon the State’s officer, but Pearson said he saw 
nothing unreasonable in his behavior, and that when people came 
to court they must expect to put up with a little inconvenience. 

Next morning the witnesses were all on hand, most of them in 
no very good humor; and during the course of the second day 
they were admitted, one by one, into the sacred precincts of the 


The Case is Continued to the Following Term. loi 

grand jury room, where each was permitted to tell his tale. Late 
in the afternoon the grand jurors — thirteen in number, headed by 
an officer — filed into the court-room with a formidable batch of 
true bills and other important papers. These the foreman gravely 
handed to the judge, who after brief inspection passed them to 
the clerk who thrust them at once in his bosom with the air of one 
who has a dreadful secret in his keeping which he would rather 
die than divulge. 

Pearson and Templeton received private information from the 
attorney-general that several indictments against Ankerstrom 
were in the batch of papers they had seen the clerk secrete in his 
bosom, and as a special favor, after court adjourned, they were 
allowed to inspect them. One charged the accused, Ankerstrom, 
with having feloniously taken and carried away a chopping ax 
of the value of two dollars, and of the goods and chattels of 
Gabriel Havemeyer, with the intent on the part of the culprit to 
deprive the true owner of his property and convert the same to 
his own use. The second charged the offender with having 
broken open a mansion house in the night time with the intent to 
commit a felony therein. The third paper asserted that the same 
criminal had wilfully and maliciously set fire to and burned the 
dwelling house of Mrs. Susan Bascombe, and was therefore 
guilty of the crime of arson. A fourth indictment charged the 
wilful murder of the old lady, and when the two unprofessional 
men reached this they supposed it was the last. The law they 
found, however, had still another hold on Ankerstrom, for the 
State's officer handed them an additional paper charging the 
villain with having stolen from the Hopson family one tablecloth 
worth fifty cents and divers and sundry articles of the aggregate 
value of three dollars, to wit: two broiled chickens, three dozen 
biscuits more or less, one boiled ham, one bag of sweet cakes, 
a jar of cucumber pickles, twenty-seven dried-apple pies, com- 
monly known as “ flapjacks,” etc., etc. 

When they had finished reading the last paper the attorney- 
general informed them that he might have preferred a sixth 
charge against the accused for personal assault upon the sick 
man Hopson ; and possibly a seventh, for breaking into the house, 
since some force was used in effecting an entrance. Many pros- 
ecuting attorneys in the State, he said, would have pursued this 
course with a view of increasing costs, but he was not that sort 
of a man, Templeton commended him for his frugality where the 


102 


The K, K. K. 


public interest was concerned, and inquired as to which of the 
charges the accused would be brought to trial first upon, or 
whether he would be held to answer them all at once. 

“ Why, no indeed,” answered the State’s officer. “ That 
wouldn’t do, you know. We will try him on one of these indict- 
ments, and if we fail we will take him to task on another ; and 
if we have bad luck there, we will drag him up on the third ; and 
if our hold breaks there, we will tackle him on the fourth, and so 
on. This is about the course we’ll pursue, and by the time we’re 
through with him, unless I’m pretty badly fooled, there won’t be 
much left of him.” 

‘‘ Well,” said Templeton, who being younger than Pearson 
assumed the right to speak for them both, ” this fellow has 
committed murder, a cold-blooded and cowardly murder ; there 
isn’t any doubt about that. Suppose we therefore arraign him for 
murder, and try him and hang him for murder right away, and 
let the other charges against him be dismissed. When we’ve 
hung him for his principal offense, he will have passed beyond 
our reach, and there’ll be nothing else we can do to him.” 

“ There’s sense in that,” responded the attorney-general, mus- 
ingly ; and he looked out of the window as if he was turning the 
proposition over in his mind. Templeton handed him a cigar, 
and when he had puffed at this a while, and found it was a good 
cigar, he seemed to attach even more importance to the young 
man’s proposition. “ There’s a good deal in that ; there’s a good 
deal in that,” he repeated, nodding his head to Templeton. 
“ Well, we’ll try that.” 

“ Suppose we set the murder charge for one day next week,” 
said Templeton, “and try him and convict -him on that. We 
might possibly get ready by to-morrow, but we’d better not go 
too fast. We can have all our witnesses back here next Tuesday, 
and we’ll take up the case on that day and go right along with it. 
That is, of course, if it suits you.” 

“ That’s a good idea,” said the attorney-general. “ Fust rate ; 
fust rate. I’ll have the case set for that day. The fellow’s down 
here in jail at Coopertown, ain’t he? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Who’s his lawyer ? ” 

“ Nobody, I reckon. He’s not able to employ a lawyer, and a 
lawyer wouldn’t do him any good. He’s guilty beyond all ques- 
tion.” 


The Case is Continued to the Following Term. 103 

“All right; we’ll try him next Tuesday. I’ll get the judge 
to assign some of these young fellows to defend him,” and the 
attorney-general walked away, and had the case of Ankerstrom, 
charged with murder, set for the following Tuesday. He di- 
rected the clerk also to forward without delay a copy of the in- 
dictment to the prisoner in the Coopertown jail. 

Seeing that the attorney-general had his hands full of other 
matters, our two friends, together with other active persons from 
the neighborhood of the tragedy, set to work at once to make 
ready the state’s case by the following Tuesday. The witnesses 
were all resummoned to appear, and trusty individuals were de- 
tailed to look after those about whose voluntary attendance there 
was some doubt. Mr. Bob Lee Templeton had entirely recovered 
from his discontent of the evening before, and novv^ cheerfully did 
his endeavor to put everybody else in a hopeful frame of mind, 
and induce them to return to court at the appointed time. There 
were some grumblers, of course, and some prophets of evil, but 
all these were put to silence by the assurances and encouragement 
of the candid youth. 

“ You fellows be sure to come back,” cried Mr. Templeton to 
a group of witnesses, who were muttering about the distance 
they had to travel in going to and from the court. “ Let every 
man of you come back next Tuesday. If a few stay away, don’t 
you see, that will spoil the whole business, for like as not some of 
the missing ones may be important witnesses, and the case would 
have to be continued for lack of proof. That will never do in the 
world. So let every man be on hand to answer to his name next 
Tuesday.” 

“ I’ve lost two days already,” replied one of his auditors, “ and 
the worms are eating up my tobacco.” 

“ That’s bad; that’s bad,” rejoined Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, in 
a sympathetic tone. “ I know just how it is, my friend, for I’m 
a farmer myself. But come one more time — just one more time. 
Don’t forget that a good old woman has been murdered, and that 
the scoundrel who killed her should be hung without delay. I 
know just what I’m talking about, and I tell you one more day in 
this cause will be sufficient. I and the State’s attorney have talked 
the thing over, and you can all depend on what I say.” 

When the following Tuesday came around the witnesses were 
all again in attendance, and court having been called to order, 
sheriff Sanderson appeared at the bar with the prisoner, Anker- 


T04 


The K. K. K. 


Strom, who the day before had been brought from the jail at 
Coopertown. The attorney-general called upon the fellow to 
hold up his right hand, which command the sheriff finally induced 
him to obey. The indictment was a lengthy one — for the State s 
officer was a great stickler for old forms and phrases — and was 
read in clear and deliberate tones, so that the whole couit-room 
might heai. It changed, after the caption,^ that in the county and 
state aforesaid, and upon a certain day in the preceding June, 
Johan Ankerstrom, alias Dutch Ankers, alias Cross-eyed^ Jack, 
alias the Flying Dutchman, did wilfully, unlawfully, feloniously, 
deliberately, premeditatedly, and with his malice aforethought, 
assault Mrs. Susan Bascombe, of the county and state aforesaid, 
with a deadly weapon, to wit : an ax. And with said ax the 
said Johan Ankerstorm, alias Dutch Ankers, alias Cross-eyed 
Jack, alias the Flying Dutchman, not having the fear of God be- 
fore his eyes, and being moved and instigated by the devil, did 
strike and inflict divers and sundry grievous and mortal wounds 
upon the body of the said Mrs. Susan Bascombe, of which griev- 
ous and mortal wounds the said Mrs. Bascombe did languish 
until the day following, to wit : June — , and on that day languish- 
ing she did die of said wounds. Wherefore (the document went 
on to allege), we, the grand jurors for the State and county 
aforesaid, being duly elected, impanelod and sworn upon our oaths 
the truth to speak, do present and say that Johan Ankerstrom, 
alias Dutch Ankers, alias. Cross-eyed Jack, alias the Flying Dutch- 
man, did wilfully, unlawfully, feloniously, deliberately, pre- 
meditatedly, and with his malice aforethought, kill and murder 
the said Mrs. Susan Bascombe, in tli-e county and State aforesaid, 
contrary to the form of the statute in such cases made and pro- 
vided, and against- the peace and dignity of the State. 

“ Are you guilty or not guilty ? ” inquired the State’s officer 
when he had finished reading the lengthy accusation. 

Ankerstrom scowled upon him and made no reply. He either 
did not fully understand the purport of what he had heard, or he 
made believe not to understand it. 

“ If the court please,” said a young attorney who had been as- 
signed to defend the prisoner, ‘‘ we enter a plea of not guilty here.” 

” Very good,” said the judge. ‘‘ Let the clerk record this 
upon the minutes. Is the State ready to proceed with the trial 
of this cause ? ” 

Bob Lee Templeton, forgetful of the proprieties of the place, 


The Case is Continued to the Following Term. 105 

was about to arise and assure the court that the prosecution was 
ready, but the attorney-general forestalled him. He informed 
the court, in deliberate tones, that the State wished to enter at 
once upon the trial of the cause. 

“Is the defendant ready?” inquired the judge, addressing 
himself to the young attorney who had been assigned to look 
after the prisoner’s interests. 

The young attorney here went over, and seating himself beside 
his client, sought in a hurried conversation to obtain some facts 
bearing on the issue about to be raised. While he was thus en- 
gaged lawyer Palaver entered the court-room, bearing in his 
right hand a suspicious-looking black satchel containing papers 
weighty in the law, and containing also tucked away snugly at 
the bottom a neat little flask of strong waters. He always 
carried this satchel about with him, and, the general impression 
was, would have been as utterly helpless without it as Samson 
with his head shaved. He now looked all about him, and with- 
drawing his gloves deposited these, with his satchel and cane, 
upon the table by which he stood. When he had done this, ob- 
serving that there was a lull in the court-room, he addressed him- 
self to his Honor upon the bench. 

“ If the court please,” said lawyer Palaver, “ I have just learned 
that a client of mine, one Johan Ankerstrom, has been indicted 
here upon a very grave charge, and I rise to ask that his trial be 
set for some day of the next term, so that both sid^ 'may then be 
in readiness to proceed with the investigation.” 

The attorney-general here mumbled out something about being 
needed in the grand jury room, and hastily withdrew from the 
presence of the court. 

“ Why,” said the judge to Palaver, “ we have that very case 
up now, and I was about to order the jury to be sworn.” 

“ What ! ” cried Palaver, in astonishment. “ I — ah — perhaps 
I did not understand your Honor.” 

“ The State has announced ready,” said the judge, “ and the 
case was about to go to trial when you came in.” 

“ Go to trial — go to trial ? ” repeated Palaver. “ The attorney- 
general has announced ready, does your Honor say ? Why, sir, 
was the like ever heard in the court-house before? My man 
is here on trial for his life. He is a foreigner, and can hardly 
speak the language. He has not had a minute's time for prepa- 
ration 


io6 


The K. K. K. 


“ Why,” said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, interrupting him, “ this 
man has been in. jail, if the court please, for three months. He 
certainly has had abundant time to prepare his case, and the wit- 
nesses we have brought here will tell the whole story, as the 
gentleman will find further along when we get into the evidence.” 

Palaver turned and regarded the speaker, first severely and 
then inquiringly. “ If the court please,” he remarked in a dig- 
nified way, “ I do not know this young gentleman, but I sup- 
pose, of course, he is one of the counsel in the cause.” Mr. Tem- 
pleton’s abashed look showing too plainly that he was not of 
counsel in the cause, the lawyer continued : ” I move you, sir,” 
addressing the judge, “ that this young man produce his license 
before the clerk and be sworn in as one of the practising attor- 
neys at this bar.” 

This caused a broad smile to spread itself over the court-room, 
and looking about him, Templeton was pained to observe Miss 
Sue Bascombe, who was present as one of the witnesses, biting 
her lip to suppress an inclination to laugh. This added mani- 
festly to his discomfiture, for all nice young men have their share 
of vanity, and nobody likes to be laughed at. 

” Where’s the attorney-general,” inquired the judge, in re- 
sponse to Palaver’s request. ” He ought to be here looking after 
this case. Go fetch him in at once, Mr. Sheriff.” 

The sheriff promptly retired in quest of the State’s officer, and 
Templeton followed iiim out into the hall. When the attorney- 
general presently emerged from the grand jury room the young 
man halted him and took up a few moments of his valuable 
time. 

“ I say,” remarked Templeton to the busy official, “ one 
moment, one moment, if you please. There’s an old man in the 
other room trying to put off our case. It will never do ; never in 
the world, I tell you. It’s been three months since Ankerstrom 
killed the old woman, and the folks in that country are getting 
dreadfully impatient. Their opinion of the law is none too good 
now, and if this case is put off, there’s no telling what they will 
do or say. So do you go right in and head this old man off. He’s 
talking wild, saying he hasn’t had time to get his case ready, and 
I’m afraid he’ll deceive the judge. 

” I’ll fix him,” responded the State’s officer, tearing himself 
from the young gentleman and hastily entering the court-room. 
Once in the presence of the judge, and informed of Palaver’s 


The Case is Continued to the Following Term. 107 

application to postpone the trial, he began a rather vehement 
address, which apparently was intended more for the bystanders 
than the court. He had proceeded but a little way before Pala- 
ver arose and politely interrupted him. 

“ if your Honor please,” said Palaver to the judge, “ I would 
like, with the permission of the court, to prepare an affidavit.” 

” Certainly,” replied the judge. ” The defendant’s counsel has 
that right.” 

The attorney-general then sat down and fell a-chatting pleas- 
antly with some of the lawyers about him. Palaver withdrew, 
with a stub pen, ink bottle and several quires of paper. He was 
great on affidavits ; indeed, I may say, that was his specialty, and 
no lawyer had ever been known in his section who could cram 
more statements into a document for his client to swear to. 
Having consumed less time than usual in the preparation of his 
paper, he after a bit returned into the court-room with a very con- 
fident air about him. The affidavit, verified by Ankerstrom on 
oath, alleged the undisputed facts that the indictment against the 
prisoner had been brought in by the grand jury then in session, 
that it charged murder in the first degree ; and then the further 
allegation was made that owing to excitement in the public mind 
the accused could not safely go to trial at that term of the 
court. 

“ That is sufficient,” cried the judge from the bench as soon as 
the paper was read. “ No use to waste more words about it. It 
is well enough settled in Tennessee that a defendant cannot be 
forced to a hearing at the term in which the indictment against 
him is found, where the indictment charges murder and he files 
an affidavit stating that owing to excitement in the public mind 
he cannot safely go to trial. To hold otherwise would be rever- 
sible error on the part of this court, and the case must go over 
till next term.” 

This ruling excited no sort of surprise on the part of the attor- 
neys present. The attorney-general looked up at the judge and 
nodded gravely his indorsement of the action of the court. Pala- 
ver sat down by his cane and hand-bag, crossed his legs, shook 
his foot, and assumed the air of a wise man who knew very well 
in advance what was going to happen. The fact was he had not 
bothered himself at all with preparations for the defense, and 
had nothing whatever in his black satchel bearing on the Anker- 
strom case. 


The K. K. K. 


io8 

As the lawyers and other gentlemen wended their way toward 
the hotel at the noon recess, I\Ir. Bob Lee Templeton overheard 
a conversation that made his ears tingle. 

Palaver, to the attorney-general, who was walking by his side : 
“ What smart young chap was that, Whackemall, who put in his 
mouth this morning while I was addressing the court ? 

Attorney-general : “ Templeton his name is. He is taking a 
good deal of interest in the Ankerstrom case.’’ 

Palaver : “ Any kin to the old woman that got killed ? ” 

Attorney-general: “ None that I know of. None at all, I be- 
lieve.” 

Palaver : “ What’s he got to do with it, then ? ” 

Attorney-general: “ That I can’t just make out. I think he’s in 
love with that black-eyed girl you saw in the court-room. She’s 
the old woman’s granddaughter.” 

Palaver : ‘‘ Ah, that explains it. I saw him turn red this 
morning when he looked at her, and wondered what the hell he 
was blushing about. So it was at his instance you made that 
nonsensical talk opposing my application for a continuance ? ” 

Attorney-general : “ Yes ; he urged me to do it, and I just spoke 
to oblige him.” 

Palaver : “ Ah, I see, I see. Right embarrassing sometimes to 
have a damned fool for a client.” 

Mr. Bob Lee Templeton here slackened his pace, so as to 
allow those ahead to increase the distance between them. He 
was on his way to the tavern to get dinner, but he changed his 
mind and took a notion to stroll round town before proceeding 
to the hostelry. As he strolled he came in contact with a good 
many witnesses that had been brought to court to testify in the 
Ankerstrom case. They scowled at him and indulged in un- 
complimentary remarks as he passed. 

“ That the smart Aleck,” said one, “ who had a private un- 
derstanding with the attorney-general.” 

“ His head will be gray before that understanding is carried 
out,” retorted another. 

“ The next time we catch a red-handed murderer I hope we’ll 
have sense enough to hang him up, without listening to any 
smooth talk from such palavering chaps as him,” proclaimed a 
third. 

Mr. Templeton strolled on. He soon took a side street where 
nothing harassing would be likely to occur, and where he could 


The Case is Continued to the Following Term. 109 

make a serious effort to get a hold upon himself. When, an 
hour or so later, he seated himself at the hotel table, he was out- 
wardly calm, but his appetite had deserted him. He found, 
moreover, upon self-interrogation that a good deal of his venera- 
tion for the law had departed with his appetite. 



i 


1 


no 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XIIL 

YOUNG MR. TEMPLETON CHANGES HIS MIND WHEN OUT OF HUMOR, 

AND REVERTS TO HIS FORMER OPINION WHEN CHEERFULNESS IS 

RESTORED. 

That afternoon as those who had been summoned in the An- 
kerstrom case journeyed homeward from the town, some were 
merry and some were mad. Templeton was of the company, and 
for a short distance he rode by the side of Miss Sue Bascombe, 
who having made her second trip to court considered herself 
pretty well posted now as to the legal methods of transacting 
business. 

“ Law is a great profession, Mr. Templeton,” remarked the 
young lady as the horse that bore her jogged along at a steady 
gait toward the place of her abode, “ and I wonder they don’t 
have more female attorneys in the country. It seems to me to 
be a profession much better adapted to women than men, any- 
way.” 

” How is that? ” inquired Mr. Templeton. 

“ Oh, they talk so much,” replied the young lady, and it all 
amounts in the end to so little.” 

Miss Bascombe was inclined to be sarcastic, but Templeton 
accepted her observations seriously. “ That’s a fact,” he an- 
swered rather sullenly. 

” It’s all talk and no cider, as we say in the country,” continued 
the young lady. “ The judge has his say, the lawyers have their 
say, and now and then an outsider puts in and tries to have his 
say. I think you made a little experiment in that direction this 
morning, didn’t you, Mr. Templeton?” 

“ Yes,” replied the gentleman addressed, “ but it didn’t help 
me, or the cause of justice, either.” 

“ Of course not, of course not. You didn’t seem to have many 
friends among them, and as for the cause of justice I don’t sup- 
pose that was on anybody s mind at all.” 


How Young Mr. Templeton Changes His Mind, iii 

“ I'm inclined to agree with you/’ replied the young gentleman 
gloomily. 

“ Well,” pursued the young lady cheerfully, “ next January 
I reckon they’ll go to the court-house again, and talk some more, 
and send us all back home again with nothing done.” 

“ Shouldn’t wonder,” replied Mr. Templeton. 

“ It will be fun though. Splashing through the mud and rain 
a matter of twenty miles in midwinter will be jolly. Nobody 
could grumble at that.” 

“ I suppose not,” replied Mr. Templeton. 

“ The lawyers, though, don’t splash through rain and mud to 
any alarming extent. All they have to do is to stand up in the 
court-room and talk. That’s what makes me say law is such a 
delightful profession.” 

“ And that’s what makes me say,” answered Templeton bitter- 
ly, “ that it’s a humbug.” 

“A what?” 

“ A farce. A miserable contrivance for defeating the ends of 
justice.” 

“ Why, my goodness,” replied the young lady, “ I thought, Mr. 
Templeton, you was on the side of the law. You speak like 
some of these outrageous Marrowbone people, so you do.” 

“ I feel as indignant as any of the Marrowbone people could 
feel. Some steps must be taken in this community by which 
scoundrels can be brought to justice.” 

“ Do you think so? ” She spoke in a graver tone than she had 
used before. 

“ Indeed I do think so. The administration of justice seems to 
be hampered in the courts by antiquated rules that may have 
suited other people differently situated, but are not adapted at all 
to the condition in which we find ourselves to-day. Criminals 
should be punished, and that without unreasonable delay. Honest 
men and women are entitled to protection. The law as now ad- 
ministered affords great encouragement to scoundrels.” 

“ Teddy McIntosh couldn’t say worse than that.” 

“ He wouldn’t tell the truth if he said less.” 

“ You seem to be in real earnest, Mr. Templeton.” 

“ Indeed I am.” 

She hummed a little tune to herself a few moments and then 
she addressed him abruptly. 

“ Why don’t you join the Ku Klux? ” 


112 


The K. K. K. 


^‘What’s that?;’ 

“ As if you didn’t know.” 

He tried to get up a laugh, but failed. “ I’m more than half 
in the humor,” he replied gravely. 

“ When you’re altogether in the humor let me know.” 

“ What have you to do with it ? ” 

“ Nothing at all.” 

“If you had I’d ask you to hand in my name at the next meet- 
ing as a candidate for admission to the order.” 

“You said just now you were only half in earnest.” 

“ I’m in dead hard earnest now.” 

“Honor bright?” 

“ Honor bright.” 

The two were proceeding along the highway by themselves, 
though there were others at a short distance in front and rear of 
them. Among these was the youth called Teddy McIntosh, who 
was about fifty yards in front. 

“ Ha-ha-ha,” laughed Miss Bascombe in a very natural way, 
though nothing had occurred, that Mr. Templeton knew of, to 
excite her mirth. 

Teddy glanced back over his shoulder, and she raised her right 
hand above her head for a moment, with three fingers extended, 
the others closed. It was a careless gesture, and would have 
attracted no special attention if one had observed it. Mr. Mc- 
Intosh did not instantly quit his companion but in a little while 
dropped back and joined the young lady and Templeton. 

” Teddy,” said Miss Sue Bascombe in a calm matter-of-fact 
way, “ Mr. Templeton has business to-night over on Dead Man’s 
Knob, and he doesn’t know the way. Won’t you be kind enough 
to take him there ? ” 

“ Why, for sure,” answered Teddy. “ I’ll be glad to show him 
the road.” 

Then there was pleasant chat of an indiscriminate kind, and 
before a great while the young lady bade them good-by, and 
leaving the main highway, took a less frequented route that led 
to her home. Teddy McIntosh now took charge of Templeton, 
and escorted him to the house of a friend, where they supped and 
rested their horses. 

About ten o’clock at night the two men mounted again and 
rode off together. No questions were asked as to their proposed 
destination by the discreet members of the household, and no 


How Young Mr. Templeton Changes His Mind. 113 

information on the subject was volunteered by the equally discreet 
Mr. McIntosh. The two men rode off together, and for some 
time rode in silence. 

‘‘ Miss Sue is all sorts cff a girl,” said Mr. McIntosh, breaking 
silence after a while. 

Not fully understanding whether this was a compliment or the 
reverse, Templeton did not reply. 

“ She’s all sorts of a girl,” Mr. McIntosh continued. “ I’ve 
been knowing her ever since we were both little children, and I 
don’t know her yet. Now and then -she’s funny and frolicksome, 
just like other girls. It isn’t very often, though, you catch her in 
that sort of humor, and when you do it’s more than half put on. 
As a general thing she takes after her granny, and her granny 
had more grit than half a dozen common men.” 

“Does she really belong to the Ku Klux Klan?” Templeton 
ventured to inquire. 

“ How’s that?” answered Teddy, as if he hadn’t heard. 

“ Is she a member of this order she was speaking of ? ” 

“ Oh, I dunno. Maybe she is, maybe she ain’t. There’s just 
no telling. You never can catch up with her, you see.” 

This was all the answer Mr. Templeton received to a question 
he had propounded to himself several times in the last few hours 
without being able to frame in his own mind a satisfactory reply. 

Traveling for about an hour the two young men came to a 
conical hill rising abruptly from the surrounding valley and a 
short distance off from the wayside. There are many such in that 
part of the country, but this was more rugged than the rest, and 
had an evil reputation from th^ fact that at a time prior to the 
civil war a stranger had been enticed to the spot and murdered 
for his money. At the foot of this they dismounted, and pro- 
ceeding Indian file along a narrow path they climbed it slowly, 
each leading his horse. They had not gone far in this manner 
before a man in front blocked the way. This individual said 
nothing, and made no demonstration, but stood stockstill until 
McIntosh, who was in the lead, came close to him and extended 
his hand. The sentinel reached forth his own, and after a friendly 
grasp, stepped aside and allowed the two men to proceed. He 
had no weapons — or Templeton saw none as he brushed close by 
him — though standing there as an outpost he could scarcely have 
expected, unarmed and unaided, to be able to repel intruders. 

Pursuing their way the two young men after going a short 

8 


The K. K. K. 


114 

distance turned aside and hitched their horses in a thick clump 
of trees, where they saw others standing. Here they began a pre- 
cipitous ascent, up which a horse, however clear-footed, could 
hardly have clambered. A little further on they were halted by a 
second sentinel, who again said nothing, but stood in the way till 
McIntosh had advanced and clasped hands with him. Next they 
reached a level strip of earth upon which stunted cedars grew 
so thick as to make a passage through it almost impossible. 
Skirting this by a circular path they reached a perpendicular 
bluff of rock, with a small open space between it and the thicket. 
Here they came upon a group of men sitting side by side on the 
ground, their line forming a rough circle of about twenty-feet in 
diameter. Each of these, Templeton noticed, wore a tall black 
cap, and his figure was shrouded in a mantle of the same somber 
hue. Not far from the center of the circle sat one with a tall 
white cap and wrapped in a white garment. On either side of 
him was a figure robed in black, as were those of the outer 
circle. 

Teddy McIntosh advanced into the middle of the group and 
faced the chief figure robed in white. Behind him came Tem- 
pleton, and as they reached the center of the circle he faced 
and stood fronting the white-robed figure. Perfect silence was 
maintained by all present. Each member of the circle sat on the 
earth with his head bowed, and nothing on the part of any of 
them indicated a consciousness that strangers were present. 

“ Majestical Grand Cyclops,” proclaimed Teddy McIntosh, 
addressing the central figure, “ this mortal desires admission into 
our mystic brotherhood.” 

No response at all was elicited by this announcement, but all 
sat on the earth as before with their heads bowed. 

“Majestical Grand Cyclops,” repeated McIntosh, “this mor- 
tal desires admission into our mystic brotherhood.” 

Then all at once arose and stood in silence around the circle. 
Templeton was astonished to find that the central figure, though 
apparently that of a thin person, was not much less than ten feet 
high. The long white cap added a good deal to the stature of 
this individual, but making due allowance for this he was un- 
doubtedly the tallest person the young man had ever seen. His 
face was muffled, and his features could be but dimly discerned 
by the starlight that alone lessened the surrounding obscurity. 

“ Majestical Grand Cyclops,” proclaimed Teddy McIntosh for 


How Young Mr. Templeton Changes His Mind. 115 

the third time, “ this mortal desires admission into our mystic 
brotherhood.” 

At this moment some one, whose approach had not been de- 
tected, stole softly up behind Templeton and blindfolded him. 
When this had been accomplished the tall figure in white for the 
first time vouchsafed a reply. He asked many questions of a 
searching nature regarding the character and qualifications of the 
candidate, all of which were answered in a complimentary manner 
by IMcIntosh, who acted as sponsor. Then the Grand Cyclops in- 
quired of the klan : 

“ Does any one present know of a reason why this mortal should 
not be received as a member of our mystic brotherhood ? ” 

A silence of some moments followed this inquiry. Then the 
command came in solemn tones : 

“ Mortal, kneel.” 

Without hesitation Templeton obeyed. 

“ Raise your right hand to heaven.” 

He did so. 

“ Repeat after me now the solemn obligation which every 
member of this mystic order is required to take.” 

The speaker here proceeded slowly and distinctly, and Tem- 
pleton repeated after him : 

“ I, Robert Lee Templeton, of my own free will and accord, 
and in the presence of these comrades, and of the Ruler of the 
universe, do here register my sacred oath that I will never reveal 
to any one not a member of this brotherhood any of the signs, 
grips or passwords that may hereafter be imparted to me, That 
I will never reveal to those not members of this brotherhood the 
fact that I know of its existence, or that I, or any other individual, 
is connected with it. I here register my sacred oath that I will 
never let the true name of the order, which I am soon to receive, 
pass my lips though none but a brother be nigh. I here register 
my sacred oath that I will promptly obey all the decrees of the 
brotherhood, when not inconsistent with the law of the land, and 
should I at any time prove faithless to the obligation I have here 
assumed I invite on my head the awful penalty that will then be 
my due.” 

“ Mortal, rise,” was the command after the oath had been 
taken. 

Templeton rose to his feet and stood blindfolded before them. 
Some one now drew near and threw a mantle over his shoulders. 


ii6 


The K. K. K. 


placing at the same time a cap on his head, which he supposed to 
be similar to those worn by others about him. 

“ Advance, brothers, and give to this mortal the secret grip of 
the order, in token of the fact that you greet him as a member of 
this brotherhood.” 

One by one those about him came forward, and each extending 
his own right hand, took that of Templeton. As the grip was 
given the forefinger of each in turn was extended until the tip of 
it rested on the wrist of Templeton, about the point where the 
pulse is usually felt. A gentle pressure was given, once, twice, 
thrice, and the individual extending the greeting passed on. 
Lastly the tall individual who had been spokesman during the 
ceremony came forward and took the candidate by the hand. 
He stretched out his long forefinger and allowed it to rest on 
Templeton’s wrist. 

“ Mortal,” he said, “ you are now about to attach yourself to 
this mystic order whose members never assemble until after the 
sun goes down, whose true name may not be uttered even among 
themselves, but which is known to the vulgar as the Ku Klux 
Klan.” 

As the speaker pronounced each of these syllables he pressed 
his forefinger by way of emphasis on the wrist of Templeton. 

” Turn thy right ear,” he now said, ” and I will deliver to thee 
in private the true name of this mystic order.” 

Templeton obeyed, and the speaker stooping low whispered 
softly in his ear a word of several syllables, which Templeton 
had never heard before, which was in a strange language and 
pronounced so indistinctly he was not sure he caught the sounds 
aright. 

” I greet you now as brother,” continued the tall man, address- 
ing him once more aloud, “ and remember that wherever you go 
you may make your clanship known by the sign of the three. If 
you would draw one of the order to your side first call his atten- 
tion by an innocent sound, then raise the right hand quickly with 
the thumb and little finger closed, the other three fingers extended 
and separated. If you would greet a brother or make your- 
self known to one who is a stranger, give him your right hand 
and press three times distinctly but lightly on the pulse of his 
right arm. Brother, for we count you stranger no longer, we 
bid you thrice welcome as a member of this mystic clan. When 
the brotherhood has once more extended greeting you will be 


How Young ]\Ir. Templeton Changes His Mind. 117 

withdrawn beyond the confines of our circle, but you may re- 
enter unaided if you can give the sentinel the grip of the order 
and whisper in his ear the countersign for the night, which I will 
now impart to you.” 

The tall master of ceremonies once more stooped and whispered 
in the ear of Templeton the password which had been adopted 
for the night. The syllables were easily caught and not difficult 
to remember, for the countersign as imparted to him in confi- 
dence by the Grand Cyclops was Sue Bascombe.” 

The bandage was now removed from his eyes, and he saw the 
tall man still standing, with a figure robed in black on each side, 
as at the beginning of the ceremony. One by one the black-robed 
figures that composed the circle left their places and greeted him 
with a grasp of the hand and a significant pressure of the fore- 
finger thrice repeated upon his wrist. He observed in the dim 
starlight that each of these had three large white letters, K. K. K., 
upon the breast of his gown, and looking down he saw that he 
himself was robed in black, and that the same letters were in- 
scribed upon his breast. When his brother members had a second 
time greeted him he was again blindfolded, his cap and robes 
were taken from him, and he was led away to a spot some dis- 
tance ofif. Here his sight was restored, and there was none with 
him but Teddy McIntosh, clad in his ordinary garb. 

“ You may now follow me,” said Teddy, “ and we will go back 
into the circle. You must not press too close upon me, however, 
and when I have passed the sentinel you must approach him 
alone, give him the grip and whisper in his ear the password you 
have just received from the Grand Cyclops.” 

Obeying this instruction literally Templeton passed the out- 
post without difficulty, and following his guide soon reached the 
group of persons he had left assembled in the open space between 
the cedar thicket and the foot of the bluff. Each was clad in 
ordinary attire, and they were sitting or lying about at will on 
the ground, giving heed to some one who though standing was 
addressing them in a low conversational tone. Templeton 
seated himself without formality in the outskirt of the group, and 
soon discovered that the individual speaking was a farmer whom 
he had met that day at the court-house. His manner was hesitat- 
ing, showing he was not accustomed to facing an audience, and 
the attention given his utterances was not very flattering. He 
was several times interrupted, and the meeting bade fair to be- 


ii8 


The K. K. K. 


come a little disorderly when a tall young man who had been 
sitting on a flat stone arose and in measured tones commanded 
the assemblage to be quiet and give heed to the speaker. 

“ That’s Jim Blankenship/’ whispered McIntosh to Templeton, 
when the tall youth had taken his seat. ‘‘ He’s the best one in 
the deck. He takes everything in dead hard earnest, and you 
can see by his Agger that he’s cut out for a Grand Cyclops.” 

Templeton had no difficulty in recognizing the deep voice as 
that of the slender individual who had addressed him while he 
stood in the midst of the clan blindfolded. “ He’s a pretty tall 
chap still,” he replied in an undertone to Teddy McIntosh, ” but 
he’s shrunk a good deal in stature in the last fifteen minutes.” 

“ Oh, that was in the make-up, you know,” rejoined Teddy. 

“ It’s with us as it is with the gals. A heap depends on the 

make-up.” 

While this whispered conversation was going on, the farmer, 
a level-headed fellow, stumbled along in his talk. 

‘‘ I think it’s too soon for us to interfere in this matter, though 
I know many of our members, and nearly all outsiders, favor 
immediate action. The man will certainly be convicted whenever 
his case does get to the jury, and we’d better wait as long as 

there is a chance to have him legally punished. It was hasty 

counsel that led to the hanging of Sandy Kinchen, and if we err 
at all now we ought to err on the side of prudence and caution.” 

The speaker held the floor, or rather the ground on which he 
stood, for ten or fifteen minutes. Random discussion followed 
his speech, and it was evident the clan had under consideration a 
proposition to take the case of the State versus Ankerstrom into 
their own hands. There seemed to be many minds on the subject, 
and it was hard to tell how the assemblage stood, when our 
friend, Teddy McIntosh, rose and favored those present with his 
views. His eloquence flowed in a torrent, and he spoke his 
mind with a directness that left no room for misunderstanding. 

Now here, gentlemen hobgoblins,” he began, ” I’d go as far 
as the next man on the road to caution and prudence and that 
sort of thing, but it does seem to me if we’re going to take a hand 
in this game that now is the accepted time. Talk about the 
hanging of Sandy Kinchen being a rash proceeding. So it was, 
gentlemen hobgoblins, but who’s responsible for it? Why this 
here same infernal devil that brained old Granny Bascombe with 
a chopping ax. Nobody but him, as T could prove before our 


How Young Mr. Templeton Changes His Mind. 119 

Dreadful Ulema right now, if it was in order for me to do so. 
Ain’t he responsible for the hanging of Sandy Kinchen? Didn’t 
I see him hit that old gray horse as hard as ever he could ? And 
didn’t I see the old horse jump when he hit him? Wasn’t it that 
lick, and that jump, that sent the nigger out of the world before 
you could say Jack Robinson? If it wasn’t that lick, and that 
jump, will somebody have the kindness to tell just what it was 
that sent the nigger out of the world? Now here, now here, 
fellow-citizens and hobgoblins, you fellows just listei) to me a 
minute. Let’s treat this < *oss-eyed Dutchman just like he treated 
Sandy Kinchen. He can’t complain of that, because we’d be feed- 
ing him, so to speak, out of his own spoon. I, for one, am tired of 
waiting and of all this tomfoolery talk about the courts. I know 
the hobgoblin that spoke last is a gentleman, and I indorse all he 
says in a general way, but Cross-eyed Jack ought to have been 
at the devil long ago, and we’ll be much to blame, in my opinion, 
if we don’t send him there just as soon as we can lay hands on 
him. Talk about courts, haven’t we got a court of our own, and 
what’s it for if it can’t settle the hash of a lowflung Dutchman 
without any more tomfoolery about it? I hope the Dreadful 
Ulema will get down to business right now and order this misera- 
ble Dutchman brought out of jail, where he’s eating public 
vittles and getting fat. And I hope the Dreadful Ulema will 
make me one of the party that’s to cut him off from his rations 
and fetch him here. If so I will obey this order of the Dreadful 
Ulema, as I will obey every other order of the Dreadful Ulema, 
and I’ll bring a rope along to hang the scoundrel just as soon 
as sentence of death has been clapped upon him. So I will, 
fellow-citizens and hobgoblins, and all of you that know me at 
all know I mean just what I say.” 

With these vehement words did Teddy McIntosh free his mind 
of the burden that had been weighing it down, and many of his 
younger friends, when he was through, congratulated him upon 
his effort and indorsed his sentiments. 

Randolph Pearson, however, had, more than any other one 
man, the confidence of the clan, and he disposed of the question 
at issue in few words. The time had not come, he said, for in- 
terfering with the due course of law in this matter. As yet the 
clan could not even afford to gravely consider such a proposition. 
There had been but a single continuance of the case, and they 
could never justify themselves if, exasperated by this slight delay, 


120 


The K. K. K. 


they sought now by violent means to take the accused from the 
proper authorities and dispose of him themselves. He admitted 
that any delay in the punishment of so heinous an offender was 
discouraging. He hoped the time would come in Tennessee 
when in every county some judicial tribunal would exist that 
could openly try the perpetrator of a monstrous crime very soon 
after its commission. Then there would be no reason why any 
good citizen should join in a mob or countenance mob law. 
Reckless and lawless persons would still resort to such methods, 
but good citizens, having a better method for the redress of evils, 
would frown upon them, and mob law would no longer be toler- 
ated. Good citizens now should strive to amend their statutes 
and as long as it was possible uphold the constituted authorities. 
Crime must be punished. Self-preservation was the first law of 
nature, and wherever in any very flagrant case there was an utter 
failure of justice through the courts, the citizens of that commu- 
nity had the right to protect themselves from future outrage by 
punishing the offender. It certainly could not be said now that 
there was an utter failure of justice in the Ank-erstrom case. At 
the next term there would doubtless be an open trial, and the ends 
of justice would be reached without resort to illegal methods. 
The members of the clan should see to it that every witness was 
again in place when the case was called in January. Till then 
they must possess their souls in patience and do all in their power 
to calm the excitement and quiet the indignation thajt existed in 
the public mind. 

When Pearson had finished there was a silence of some 
moments, and then Mr. Bob Lee Templeton arose and delivered 
a smooth talk. He said he had been very much put out indeed 
that day in court, and had expressed himself pretty plainly in 
town and on the road home. He wished to say now, however, 
that after listening to his friend Pearson, and turning the matter 
over in his own mind, he was convinced the clan would do well 
to heed the advice just given them. It was natural to get mad, 
and indulge in violent talk, but the wise thing to do now was to 
await the further action of the court. He had been of differ- 
ent mind a few hours before, but then his angry passions were 
aroused. Now he had cooled down and heartily indorsed the 
sentiments uttered by Mr. Pearson. 

The Ankerstrom question was thus disposed of without the 
formality of a vote, and the discussion drifted to other matters. 


How Young Mr. Templeton Changes His Mind. 12 1 

Many horses and mules had been stolen in the vidnity of late, 
and it seemed impossible to get on the trail of the thieves. Sus- 
picion at first rested on the negroes, but it soon became evident 
that a systematic plan was being operated by which the animals 
were transported entirely out of the country after they were 
stolen. This precluded the idea of the persistent scheme of dep- 
redations being entirely the work of negroes. If they were en- 
gaged in it there must be shrewder villains behind them, prompt- 
ing them and reaping in the main the fruits of their disonesty. 
The strange thing was that immediate pursuit, as a rule, did not 
enable the owners of the stolen animals to discover which way 
they went. They disappeared entirely, but no man could say 
how. It was also singular that no suspicious strangers had been 
seen lurking about in the neighborhood. The discussion brought 
out the fact that an old peddler had been lately on several farms 
selling cheap jewelry and such articles mainly to negroes, but 
there was no reason to suspect he had any ulterior design beyond 
the disposal of his shoddy wares. They resolved, however, to 
have an eye on him, and to keep a sharp lookout for all strangers 
and a close watch on several negroes in the locality of notoriously 
bad character. Then the clan adjourned without very much 
accomplished, but in better humor on the whole than when they 
assembled. 


122 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

MR. BOB LEE TEMPLETON AND MATILDA_, THE HOUSEMAID, HAVE A 
SINGULAR EXPERIENCE WITH A BIBLE AGENT. 

Mr. Bob Lee Templeton having devoted a month or two to 
the faithful discharge of his duties at home concluded he had 
earned a vacation, and that a little trip to the Marrowbone Hills 
would be improving to his health, as well as consoling to his 
feelings. Mounting his faithful steed therefore he set out one 
fine morning in the late fall, or early winter, with the intention 
of drawing rein about dark at the residence of Major Habersham, 
which, he had concluded, would be a convenient stopping place 
for the night. As to the next stage of his journey, or whether 
indeed there would be any subsequent stage, was a matter which 
he had not fully decided in his own mind. 

As he pursued his way the air was bracing and crisp, the fields 
were all of sober hue from the touch of the frost that had dyed 
them a uniform brown, the farm hands were singing at their work 
as they pulled the ears of corn from the tall stalks, and all things 
combined to put the young gentleman in an excellent humor with 
himself and the world at large. When the noon hour came he 
stopped and whiled away an hour or two with a farmer acquaint- 
ance, and resuming then his journey, proceeded briskly on toward 
his destination. His steed seemed to know there was good fodder 
ahead and quickened its pace so decidedly that as twilight ap- 
proached many familiar objects along the road informed the rider 
that he was nearing the premises of Major Habersham. The 
days were short now, and night closed in early, so that welcome 
lights from the windows greeted him as he rode up to the gate. 
He was forcibly reminded of an evening in the preceding June, 
when nearing the same premises kindly lights from the same 
windows beamed on him invitingly. There was this important 
difference, however, that then it was summer, and the heat re- 
quired that all the windows be raised, while now it was frosty 


A Singular Experience With a Bible Agent. 123 

autumn, when the windows must be closed and the curtains 
drawn to make things snug and comfortable ; and this other 
important difiference, that then he was a stranger, and now he was 
an intimate acquaintance, on excellent terms with all the dwellers 
on the premises, from the house dog up. 

So when Mr. Templeton rode up to the gate he dismounted 
without an invitation and hitched his horse at the rack near by. 
He then pursued his way briskly along the brick pavement that 
led to the house and knocked at the door. Not receiving any re- 
sponse he knocked again, not quite so softly. Not hearing this 
second summons he smote the door a third time even more ve- 
hemently, and now it was that answering footsteps were heard 
along the hall floor. He assumed without much difficulty a 
cheerful aspect of countenance, and made ready to greet a certain 
young lady whose custom it was to appear in person and welcome 
visitors to her father’s mansion. When the bolt was drawn, how- 
ever, and the door turned upon its hinges, there stood before him 
not the somewhat diminutive figure of Miss Polly Plabersham, 
but a damsel exceeding her considerably in stature, whose face 
was about the color of a ripe Florida orange, and whose manners, 
though a trifle distant, were elegant. 

When the damsel above mentioned had thrown wide the hall 
door and beheld Mr. Templeton standing without, she bowed 
gracefully and smiled condescendingly. Mr. Bob Lee Temple- 
ton, however, was a friendly fellow — perhaps a little too much in- 
clined to be familiar on short acquaintance — and so he called 
heartily out when he saw the orange-colored maiden before him: 

“Hello, Matilda, where’s the folks?” 

“ They aren’t here,” answered Miss Matilda, accompanying 
her reply with a second obeisance. 

“ Nobody ? ” 

“ No one at all,” replied the hand-maiden with a decided ac- 
cent on the last syllable. “ That is to say, sir, there isn’t any 
person here that belongs here.” 

“ That’s the Dickens,” said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, as he 
pushed by her and entered the hall. Then he stood and looked 
about him as if uncertain himself what to do next. 

“ They’ve all gone to Nashville, I think, sir, to consult a physi- 
cian about Mrs. Habersham, I think, sir.” 

“ Is she worse ? ” inquired the visitor, when the polite hand'« 
maiden had volunteered this information. 


124 


The K. K. K. 


“ We cannot say she’s worse, sir, and yet we cannot say, upon 
the other hand, that she’s any better, sir.” 

Mr. Templeton stroked his chin, which was beardless, and 
made no reply. 

“ We have fears of her, sir,” continued Matilda, “ and we have 
hopes of her.” 

“ That’s the Dickens,” said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. 

‘‘ It is indeed,” replied Matilda. 

“ Can you give me a drink of water ? ” inquired Mr. Bob Lee 
Templeton. 

“ Indeed I can, sir,” replied Matilda. 

Mr. Templeton drank the water and next inquired : 

“ Can you give me a strong cup of coffee, Matilda, and some 
bread and butter, and two or three slices of ham, and any little 
jimcracks that may come handy? I’m hungry as a wolf.” 

“ Indeed I can, sir,” replied Matilda. 

And say, Matilda, you haven’t said when the folks are coming 
back.” 

“ About the middle of next week, sir,” replied Matilda. 

That’s the devil,” said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. 

So it is, sir,” replied Matilda. 

Mr. Bob Lee Templeton went into the parlor, which was a 
very snug parlor as a usual thing, but looked quite dull and com- 
fortless now. He made believe to read a book for a few minutes, 
and fingered the keys of the piano for a few minutes, though he 
couldn’t strike a tune. Then he flung himself down on the sofa and 
was lying there outstretched when Matilda summoned him to sus- 
tenance. 

Mr. Templeton did full duty to the repast, and when he had 
nourished himself sufficiently he again addressed the hand-maide». 

“ I suppose I take the usual room upstairs, Matilda ? ” 

“Yes, sir; yes, sir; that is to say, sir; oh, yes indeed, sir; of 
course, sir,” replied Matilda in some confusion. “ We will see to 
it, Mr. Templeton, that you have the very same room.” 

“ If there’s any trouble about it, Matilda ” 

“ There isn’t any trouble about it at all, sir,” replied Matilda. 
“ There isn’t the least trouble in the world about it, sir, only, sir, 
there’s another person in the room.” 

“Another person in the room?” said Mr. Templeton in some 
astonishment. 

“ Yes indeed, sir ; so there is, sir. A very nice old gentleman in 
the room.” 


A Singular Experience With a Bible Agent. 125 

Why I thought you said there was nobody at home ? ” 

There is no one at home, Mr. Templeton,’’ replied Matilda, 
evidently laboring under some embarrassment. That is, sir, no 
one that belongs here, sir ; none of the family, sir. And you know 
the rules of the house, Mr. Templeton; and you know how very 
strictly I always adhere to the rules of the house when the estab- 
lishment is left in my charge ; but, sir, this is such a nice old gen- 
tleman, and such a pious old gentleman, and such a well-behaved 
old gentleman in every way, that I thought it right to let him stay 
all night, and I thought it right to put him in our nicest bed- 
room.” 

What’s his name? ” 

“ That I cannot tell you, sir, because it’s a foreign name, and it 
will take a foreigner to pronounce it. But he was a good Chris- 
tian man over among the Turks, I think he called the people, and 
they used him very badly, and killed about half his family, and 
he’s now selling Bibles to get money to bring the other half over 
here, sir. He’s a very nice old gentleman, sir, and a very pious 
old gentleman, and has very agreeable manners.” 

“ Has he gone to bed ? ” 

** No, sir, he’s just gone out to walk a little and muse,” said 
Matilda tenderly, “ upon his melancholy situation. He’ll be back 
presently.” 

“ Well, Matilda,” replied Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, being a 
whole souled sort of a fellow, “ you did quite right to take this 
unfortunate stranger in and to give him the best room in the 
house. As for me you can stick me anywheres. I shall sit up 
until the old gentleman comes back, and have a talk with him. 
I’ve no doubt I shall be highly entertained ; for I have long wished 
to know something of the condition of the Christians in Turkey.” 

After so long a time the old gentleman came in, having con- 
sumed an hour or so in strolling about over the premises, musing 
upon his melancholy situation and smoking his pipe. He soon 
proved himself to be quite an entertaining old gentleman, and 
succeeded in making himself understood more readily than Mr. 
Templeton expected, seeing he was but recently over from a for- 
eign country. His gestures were as eloquent and significant as 
those of a deaf and dumb man, and he had picked up a few words 
of English with which to supplement these when it was necessary 
to make out the sense. Altogether the little old man managed to 
convey his meaning clearly enough, and what with motions of the 


126 


The K. K. K. 


hands, scraps of language, and expressive changes of counte- 
nance, he told a tale that aroused the compassion of the syrnpa- 
thetic Mr. Templeton, as it had previously done that of Matilda, 
the housemaid. Such atrocities as the cruel Turks perpetrated 
upon good Christians in the lands beyond the seas Mr. Temple- 
ton would hardly have conceived possible, and indeed would not 
have credited if the story had been told by other than an eyewit- 
ness, and a very earnest and truthful eyewitness at that, such as 
the old gentleman undoubtedly was. When the old man, some- 
what wearied — for he had come afoot — retired to his room, Mr. 
Templeton meditated a while by the fire, and then addressed the 
housemaid as she was passing. 

“ That’s a nice old man, Matilda.” 

“ It is indeed, sir,” replied Matilda. 

“ He has seen sights in his time.” 

“ He has indeed, sir,” replied Matilda. 

“ How many Bibles did you subscribe for, Matilda ? ” 

“ Only one, sir,” replied Matilda. 

“ Put me down for five,” said Mr. Templeton. 

‘‘ Indeed I will, sir,” replied Matilda effusively. For if ever 
there was a nice old gentleman, as you say, sir, I think, sir, it’s 
this old gentleman. And if ever there was an old gentleman, sir, 
which has had calamaties befall him. I’m quite sure, sir, it’s this 
old gentleman. I’ll go upstairs right now and tap at his door 
and tell him to put you down for five. The money is not to be 
paid until he comes back with the Bibles, which shows to my 
mind that he is a very honest, straightforward sort of a person.” 

It does indeed,” cried Mr. Templeton. “ It speaks well for 
him.” 

“ Such misfortunes, sir, as have come upon the old gentle- 
man,” continued Matilda. “ Why, sir, it’s enough to make a per- 
son’s blood boil to hear him tell of the troubles he has seen 
through those heathen Turks.” 

“ Sho-nuff, Matilda?” ejaculated Mr. Templeton. 

“ Yes indeed, Mr. Templeton, su-r-r-e enough,” replied Matilda, 
rolling the “ r ” over her tongue as genteel folks invariably do. 
“ And to think, sir, of the great sorrow that’s weighing him down 
on account of having members of his own family still over there 
at the mercy, as one might say, of those heathen Turks. Did you 
say five, sir ? ” 

“ Six,” responded Mr. Templeton promptly. And say to the 


12 / 


A Singular Experience With a Bible Agent. 

old gentleman, Matilda, that the binding ma}^ be of his own 
choice.” 

“ Oh, sir, that is kind.” 

“ And say, Matilda.” 

“ Yes, ’sir.” 

“ The old gentleman, you tell me, came afoot, and is no doubt 
a little short of funds. Hand him this ten-dollar bill, Matilda, 
with my compliments, and request him to place the amount as a 
credit upon my subscription.” 

“ Oh, thank you, indeed,” replied Matilda, bowing. “ Oh, that 
is very nice of you, I'm su-r-re. The good Lord will be certain 
to reward you for your noble behavior, and I’ll not forget, sir, to 
mention the matter to Miss Marie.” 

With these comforting words Matilda hastened upstairs to in- 
form the old gentleman of Mr. Templeton’s generous subscrip- 
tion, and of his thoughtful cash instalment thereon. 

I defy any one to do a meritorious act upon this earth with- 
out being immediately repaid for it in the solace such righteous 
conduct will bring to his soul. Mr. Bob Lee Templeton had 
been fretting, as we know, during most of the evening over his 
hard luck in not seeing any of the Habersham family after his 
long day’s ride with that special object in view. Now, however, a 
feeling of content stole over him as his fancy conjured up the 
vision of a grateful old man setting down his subscription for 
six Bibles and pocketing the advance payment of ten dollars on 
same. When he retired to rest his mind pursued the grateful 
train of reflection thus aroused, and his sympathies went out 
toward all the unfortunates upon the earth wheresoever they 
might be. He bethought him — Mr. Bob Lee Templeton did — of 
the great difference between his own worldly condition and that 
of the poor old Bible vender roaming a fugitive from his far-off 
home. How strange it was, he said to himself, that divine provi- 
dence should turn the cold shoulder, so to speak, on many deserv- 
ing people in this life and bestow comfort and happiness on 
others far less worthy. And how ungrateful and unbecoming — 
said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton to himself — was the behavior of 
that man who having this world’s goods, and seeing his brother 
in need, shut up his compassion from him. Then naturally Mr. 
Templeton indulged in the comfortable reflection that his own 
case was not by any means the one just depicted, but quite the 
reverse. Then he fancied the surprise and gratification of Miss 


128 


The K. K. K. 


Polly when his meritorious conduct came to be reported to her. 
Then his pleasing fancies and his consciousness faded away to- 
gether and he fell asleep. 

Mr. Bob Lee Templeton was a young man who usually re- 
signed himself to the arms of Morpheus as soon as he sought his 
couch and remained there contentedly until somebody shook him 
or the breakfast bell rang. On this occasion he slumbered even 
more deeply than was his wont, for he was tired from his long 
day’s ride. After a while he was startled by such a rapping at 
his door as would have roused one who had gone to bed dead 
drunk and was snoring off his intoxication. 

Opening his eyes wide Mr. Templeton saw it was broad day- 
light, and springing out of his bed he recognized the voice of 
Matilda, keeping excited accompaniment to the constant rapping 
she maintained at the door. 

“Oh, Mr. Templeton, sir; wake up, if you please, sir. Some- 
thing has happened, sir, that I was not in the least expecting. 
Indeed, sir, there has, and the nee-groes on the place are all in a 
state of dreadful excitement over the matter. It is a very 
strange thing that has happened, one that I was not in the least 
expecting, sir; not in the least, sir.” 

“What’s up with the niggers?” inquired Mr. Templeton, 
throwing the door open as he spoke; for having leaped into his 
trousers, he considered himself now in fit condition to receive 
company. 

“ Oh, sir, it isn’t the nee-groes at all. It’s a great deal worse 
than that, sir. They have stolen your horse, Mr. Templeton.” 

“ My horse ? ” 

“ Yes indeed, sir. And more than that ; they have stolen Miss 
Marie’s horse too — the one with the blaze face they call Light- 
foot.” 

“ Well, damn the luck,” exclaimed Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, 
for he wist not what to say. 

“ Yes indeed,” cried Matilda. “ I say so too, Mr. Templeton. 
And that isn’t all, sir. You know the nice old gentleman you 
ordered the five Bibles from? Well, sir, he’s up and gone as sure 
as the world ; and not a soul has the slightest idea when he left 
the house or which way he went.” 

“ What, left in the middle of the night, without saying a word 
to anybody? ” cried Mr. Templeton. 

“ That’s just exactly what he did, sir. And I can’t help think- 
ing, sir, and saying, sir, that his conduct was a little strange.” 


A Singular Experience With a Bible Agent. 129 

“ He’s an infernal old humbug,” asserted Mr. Templeton, tying 
his shoes hurriedly as he spoke. 

“ Yes, sir, and to think, sir, that I put him in the very best 
bed ; and put you, sir, in the room that we keep, so to speak, for 
every-day people.” 

” No odds about that,” replied Mr. Templeton, and he flung on 
his waistcoat and top coat and began searching about the room 
for his hat. 

” It’s very kind of you to say so, sir. There it is, sir, hang- 
ing on the chair round over in the corner. And I hope, sir. Miss 
Marie and the Major will take the same view of the matter as 
you do, sir. And I hope, sir, that Mrs. Habersham, being quite 
nervous in ‘her disposition, won’t find it out at all.” 

“ That’s all right,” responded Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. “ The 
blaze-face horse, and my horse too, did you say ? ” 

Both of them, sir, as sure as the world,” said Matilda. 

“ Well, damn the luck,” cried Mr. Bob Lee Templeton again, 
as he hastened down the steps. 

” Yes indeed, sir,” replied Matilda, following, ‘‘ that’s what I 
say.” 

When the young gentleman reached the stable lot he found 
nearly all the negroes on the place gathered there. The padlock 
that secured the door had been picked with a rusty nail, which 
was found close beside it on the ground. The two horses men- 
tioned had been selected from several other animals that stood 
within, and two saddles for male riders had been taken to go with 
the steeds. The inquiry that Templeton at once set on foot did 
not elicit much information that was of service to him. The sta- 
ble door had been locked as usual the night before, and the next 
morning it was found open and the two horses missing. That 
the old book peddler was connected with the transaction there 
could be no doubt; but he must have had a confederate, for surely 
no thief would be bold enough to endeavor to escape from a com- 
munity riding one stolen horse and leading another. A strange 
negro had been seen loafing about the neighborhood for the past 
day or two, and many were ready to jump to the conclusion that 
he and the old book man were partners in the nefarious business 
of horse stealing though there was no direct evidence upon 
which to base such a theory. The notion, however, once hatched 
throve apace, and soon there was positive conviction in the minds 
of those present that the suspicious African had a hand in the 

9 


130 


The K. K. K. 


robbery that had just been perpetrated. At the gate that led 
from the stable lot a large human track was found, which it was 
confidently asserted could not have been made by any one resid- 
ing on. the premises. 

“ Dis here’s a nigger track! ” exclaimed one self-constituted de- 
tective, scrutinizing closely the fresh impression in the earth. 
“ Dey ain’t no white man gwy tote such a foot as dis.” 

“ Lem-me tell you, lem-me tell you,” cried the old man Uncle 
Davy, who had favored the sheriff with his views on the occasion 
of that officer’s last visit to the place, “ all dis comes of givin’ a 
furriner de company room of de house, and makin’ Marse Bob 
Lee Templeton here put up wid what he could git. And all dat 
comes of fotchin’ a mularter gal out’n town to run things on dis 
place her own fashion when de white folks is away.” 

Matilda up to this moment had been a conspicuous member of 
the assembly, but finding herself thus pointedly alluded to she 
turned indignantly and made her way trippingly toward the 
house. The old man did not fail to observe her retreat and was 
encouraged thereby to continue his strictures. 

“ Dey would fetch a gal from town out here wid all her 
grondeur, and now you see what done come of it. Her fool ways 
has been past standin’ ever sence she sot foot on de place, but dis 
here job will do her up.” 

“ She’s all right. Uncle Davy,” said Templeton kindly. That 
old thief would have fooled anybody. He fooled me, and he 
would have fooled you if he had got a chance at you.” 

“ Dat he wouldn’t, Marse Bob,” replied the old man, somewhat 
disconcerted at finding Matilda’s cause espoused by the young 
gentleman. “ He mout a fooled you, and he mout a fooled dat 
yander mularter gal, but de man dat’s to fool Uncle Davy ain’t 
been born yit.” 

“ Maybe so. Uncle Davy, but tell ’em to bring out the best 
horse that’s left on the place and I’ll see if I can’t get on the track 
of the scoundrels.” Saying which the young gentleman returned 
to the house to swallow a hasty breakfast and make ready for the 
ride he proposed to take. 

Templeton had not attended a single meeting of the K. K. K. 
since the night of his initiation, but he was resolved now to hunt 
up his friend, Teddy McIntosh, and through him to arouse at 
once certain other active members of the order. By prompt pur- 
suit he hoped to overtake the thieves before they were entirely 


A Singular Experience With a Bible Agent. 13 1 

out of the country. The horses they had stolen were easily de- 
scribed, and by diligent inquiry the direction they had taken 
could soon be learned. Once on their trail with two or three 
zealous comrades he did not propose to give over the chase until 
the scoundrels were apprehended and the stolen animals recov- 
ered. As he was about to set out old Uncle Davy, who was 
a privileged character on the place, gave him some useful 
advice. 

‘‘ Don^t you ride round dese parts atter dark, Marse Bob; ef 
you do de Ku Klux will sholy git you. Don’t you set your head 
to’ds no place dat you can’t reach afo’ candlelight. Dar’s all 
kinds of devils and ghosteses in dem Marrowbone Hills, and dey 
walks mostly in de night time. Soon as de sun go down ef you 
ain’t in some house or ’nother, you watch out for de Ku Klux, and 
ef you meets one un ’em you put de lash to your hoss and make 
tracks from dar as fass as you kin.” 

“ How will I know one of them if I see him. Uncle Davy ? ” 
inquired Templeton. 

“ You’ll know ’um wharever you see ’um. Dey ain’t no com- 
mon lot, I tells you. Some un ’um is dressed in black and some 
in white. Some is on foot, bust mostly dey rides bosses dat look 
zackly like sho-nuff bosses, but dey ain’t. Some is all scrooched 
up, and t’others is long and slim as a fence rail. Dey was in dis 
country ’bout de time freedom come, and one night dey run me 
twell my tongue drap out’n my mouth. Ef I hadn’t broke for de 
creek, and crossed dat, dey’d a got me sho.” 

“ How did that save you ? ” 

“ Why hi, mun ; don’t you know a witch can’t cross runnin’ 
water? When dey got to de creek dey stopped and jabbered 
dar a while, and den all turn back. Dat what make me know for 
sartain dey wa’n’t no humans.” 

“ Did you ever meet any of them again?” 

“ Did I ? You takes me for a fool, does you, Marse Bob ? Dat 
one time done me, lem-me tell you. Atter dat I done my travel- 
in’ by daylight, bekase one foot race wid de Ku Klux crowd be- 
hind me was sufficient.” 

“ What went with the Ku Klux that were in the country then ? ” 

“ Dat’s a question, Marse Bob, dat de smartest man in de world 
can’t answer. Dey all speerited deyselves away, and folks was 
in hopes dey was gone for good; but now here dey done come 
ag’in.” 


1^2 The K. K. K. 

“ I’ll look out for ’em, Uncle Davy,” replied Templeton as he 
rode away. 

“ You git in de house by candlelight, you do dat,’ said the old 
man. “ Dat’s de onliest way to keep de Ku Klux from ketchin’ you. 
As for dat nigger what helped de ole white man to take dem 
bosses, if ever you gits him, Marse Bob, you fetch him back here 
for me to look at. Niggers has been stealin’ chickens a long 
time, but when dey git to stealin’ bosses dey’ve riz.” 

Templeton rode off at a gallop, and before the day was through 
had gathered at least a dozen members of his secret order to aid 
him in pursuit of the horse thieves. They went out in different 
directions, made diligent inquiry, and patroled the principal 
roads at night, but received little information that could profit 
them in their search. Telegrams of course were sent off and re- 
wards offered, and they hoped after a while to get some return 
from these efforts to arrest the outlaws, but the strange thing was 
that they could not be traced out of the neighborhood in which 
the crime had been committed. Horses cannot be easily hidden 
so as to escape observation, and if they travel the highway by day 
or night they will be seen or heard. Only one clue did Temple- 
ton and his friends get as to the direction the thieves had taken, 
and that clue was lost almost as soon as found. A country doc- 
tor riding in a narrow lane on the night of the robbery met two 
men on horseback. One of these was a negro and the other a 
white man. It was after midnight, and neither accosted him as 
they brushed close beside him in the road. He regarded them as 
suspicious characters, but being alone did not deem it prudent to 
interrupt them. This seemed to make it reasonably certain that 
the thieves, as suspected, were a negro and a white man, but 
where they went after the robbery, and how they managed to get 
out of the country with the stolen property, was for a long time 
a mystery. 

Miss Marie — alias Polly — Habersham did not recover her 
blaze-faced horse called Lightfoot, and Mr. Robert Lee Temple- 
ton for some time bemoaned the loss of his roadster that traveled 
so smoothly under the saddle. Miss Polly, they said, rode to 
church several times that fall on a pacing mule, though it is an un- 
deniable fact that she might have gone to the place of worship in 
a buggy if she had been so minded. Major Habersham for some 
weeks withdrew his mind from the state of the country at large, 
and began forming plans in his head for the right ordering of 


A Singular Experience With a Bible Agent. 133 

things in his own immediate locality. There was some wonder- 
ment and much grumbling in the community, and folks gener- 
ally agreed that matters had come to a Dickens of a pass in the 
Marrowbone Hills and the regions thereabout. Horses were 
stolen, houses burned, women murdered, and the community 
seemed powerless to protect itself from such depredations. Most 
of the outlaws got away unmolested, and if they caught one now 
and then he was turned over to the law, which most people re- 
garded as a sort of house of refuge for scoundrels. 

Teddy McIntosh more than once moved in the secret councils 
of his order that when the clan caught a scoundrel the clan should 
deal with that scoundrel, and not permit the dilatory courts to 
screen him from punishment. This resolution was, however, al- 
ways voted down, and the prudent members of the clan still perse- 
vered in the determination to aid the law in the apprehension of 
criminals, and to labor thereafter for the punishment of such of- 
fenders through the courts. Which conclusion on their part was 
undoubtedly wise and commendable. 


134 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XV. 


SOME JOLLY GOOD FELLOWS MEET AT THE TAVERN ; AND THE CASE 

OF THE STATE VERSUS ANKERSTROM IS AGAIN CALLED IN COURT. 

It was several weeks later, that is in the month of January of 
the following year, that Attorney Palaver mounted a good nag, 
hired from a livery stable, and set his face toward the hill coun- 
try lying along the upper Cumberland. As a general thing it was 
he who looked after such business as fell to the lot of the firm in 
the outside counties of the judicial circuit, while the more sedate 
Slowboy remained at home to mind the office. Palaver himself did 
not — as some starvelings in his profession were compelled to do — 
make the round regularly with the judge and attorney-general to 
pick up stray crumbs, but when a fat fee was offered in another 
county he went thither to earn it, and such occasional outings 
were in every way agreeable to him. He enjoyed the ride if the 
weather was good and the country roads in tolerable condition. 
He enjoyed the scenery and the various objects of interest along 
the route, for he was a close observer, and there was a good deal 
of sentiment in his composition. He enjoyed the quips and jokes 
of his brother lawyers, if, as was usually the case, there were 
others in the company. And lastly he enjoyed the good whisky 
that was invariably taken along by some prudent member of the 
party to have in readiness in case of snake bites. 

The fact is. Lawyer Palaver enjoyed life, and, like a true phi- 
losopher, made the most of it day by day. In the practice of his 
profession he relished all the little exciting incidents that arose 
from time to time to put him on his mettle and bring out his talent 
before the world. So much did he delight in everything connected 
with his chosen profession that it was a settled rule of his never 
to turn a lawsuit loose as long as he could hold on to it. In crim- 
inal cases, where he nearlv always appeared on the side of the de- 
fense, he pursued the well-known Fabian policy, and usually ex- 


Some Jolly Good Fellows Meet at the Tavern. 135 

hausted not only opposing counsel, but judge, jury, witnesses, and 
a long-suffering public, before ever he would permit himself to be 
drawn into a decisive engagement. It required, of course, great 
adroitness and skill to be able to conduct his campaigns on this 
plan, but these were precisely the qualities which Palaver abun- 
dantly possessed, and which it was his chief pleasure to display. 
He was intimately acquainted with all the maneuvers whereby the 
progress of justice may be hindered in the courts, and was especi- 
ally skilled in the use of that formidable legal weapon known as 
the affidavit. Sancho Panza, the knight of La Mancha thought, 
was born with a bellyful of proverbs, and there were not wanting 
those among Palaver’s legal acquaintances v/ho insisted that he 
had been born with a bellyful of affidavits. However this might 
be, he certainly had one ready for all occasions, and it was a cold 
day indeed when — however hopeless might seem to be his chance 
to effect a further postponement of the issue — he did not turn up 
with an affidavit to fit the case. 

On this particular winter morning then behold our friend Pala- 
ver astraddle of a well-gaited nag pursuing his way toward the 
village of Ashton, where the case of the State versus Ankerstrom 
had been set for trial next day. He was in fine feather, and every- 
thing indicated that he was cocked and primed for the important 
trial that was ahead of him. Two or three brother lawyers were 
along, and the prisoner. Cross-eyed Jack, was along, and alto- 
gether they made a goodly company of gentlemen traveling to 
court. With friendly discourse they put the miles speedily enough 
behind them, and about nightfall reached in good trim the place 
for which they were bound. Here Sanderson and Johan Anker- 
strom put up at the county jail, while the others, making their 
way to the tavern, sought more agreeable quarters for the night. 

]\Ir. Bob Lee Templeton, traveling from a different direction, 
had reached the town some hours ahead of this party, and, being 
young and upheaded, had engaged for himself the very best room 
in the hostelry. During the evening meal, of which they all par- 
took as became hungry travelers, Mr. Templeton conversed freely 
with the attorneys at table, and found them quite companionable 
and gracious in their manners. The younger members of the 
profession were somewhat disposed to air their learning and too 
much inclined to be disputatious, but all were good-natured and 
courteous, as became those whose daily task it was to take and 
give hard knocks. Templeton, who was a gentleman, was pleased 


136 The K. K. K. 

with this characteristic, and it elevated the legal fraternity in his 
opinion. 

After supper, as his apartment was roomy, and he had a good log 
fire blazing on the hearth, first one and then another of the law- 
yers dropped into Templeton’s room, and soon without previous 
agreement the entire number was assembled there. In all there 
were about a dozen come from different quarters to attend court, 
and, chairs having been brought, a free and easy offhand conver- 
sation began that was exciting to the actual participants and 
highly entertaining to all others. Somebody reported that it was 
drizzling rain on the outside, and somebody else remarked that 
if such was the case there was nothing left for those under shelter 
to do but take a drink. From that moment the bottle was pushed 
briskly about, and the little gathering before many more golden 
moments had sped was in high spirits. Mr. Templeton was a be- 
liever in the old maxim that when in Rome you should do as the 
Romans do, and so he imbibed rather freely with those about him, 
and presently was the loudest laugher in the crowd. A man may 
drink, however, and not be drunk, and Mr. Templeton on this oc- 
casion, while a little thick-tongued toward the close of the even- 
ing, and somewhat glassy about the eyes, never, I am proud to 
relate, lost for a mom.ent the use of his legs. 

Palaver, while the ranking member in point of age, was the 
choicest spirit of the festive throng, and shortly before midnight 
took the floor with the manifest purpose of retaining it till the 
break-up of the entertainment. He spraddled his legs rather widely 
apart, lifted his right hand in argumentative fashion, and began 
a running discourse on matters and things in general. Interrup- 
tions were frequent, and many remarks hurled at him were of a 
personal nature, but nothing could disconcert him. , He not only 
gave in every instance a Roland for an Oliver, but usually re- 
torted so successfully upon his unmannerly questioners that he 
presently put all his adversaries to silence. Then he rambled on, 
with none to molest him or make him afraid, till half his auditors 
feigned to be asleep, and the other half were really so. The night 
being now far spent the gathering dispersed to snatch as much 
sleep as could be obtained before the court-house bell rang next 
morning. 

. The following day to a late breakfast came Mr. Bob Lee Tem- 
pleton and two or three of the younger lawyers, the rest being 
tardy. When the meal had been finished one of the attorneys took 


Some Jolly Good Fellows Meet at the Tavern. 137 

Mr. Templeton aside, saying he wished to have words with him. 
When they had retired a sufficient distance to avoid being over- 
heard he advised the young man to employ counsel to assist the 
attorney-general in the Ankerstrom case. 

“ It is nothing to me, you understand,’' said the attorney, “ but 
I just thought I’d mention the matter to you and let you consider 
it. It seems to me the public interest demands that Whackemall 
have help in this Ankerstrom case. Palaver, I notice, represents 
the defendant, and you may not know it, but he’s the most dan- 
gerous man in our profession. Didn’t you observe how he downed 
every fellow that tackled him last night ? ” 

Mr. Templeton’s memory was not very clear as to the transac- 
tions of the preceding evening, but he retained a vague impression 
that Palaver was the hero of the hour, and that he himself had 
given him unstinted applause. 

“ I thought I’d mention the matter to you,” said the attorney. 
“ No harm in that? ” 

“ None in the world,” replied Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, cheer- 
fully. “ Whackemall, as you say, seems to be an uncertain sort 
of a man. I understood from him that there would be no trouble 
about getting the case up at the last term, and there must be no 
slip this time.” 

“ He did his best,” replied the attorney, who was a very gentle- 
manly sort of fellow. “ Whackemall is a good man. A little 
crusty now and then, but honest and forcible. Palaver, though, 
can walk all over him in a criminal case. From all I can learn 
this man Ankerstrom deserves hanging as richly as ever a scoun- 
drel did on this earth. As to whether he’ll get his dues or not de- 
pends though, you understand, altogether on the way his case is 
handled.” 

The result of the confab was that Mr. Templeton concluded to 
employ assistant counsel for the prosecution in the Ankerstrom 
case, and to pay the fee himself. He was a whole-souled young 
gentleman, and his energies now were thoroughly enlisted on the 
side of what he deemed to be law and justice in the case. He 
struck a bargain, and a fair one, with the young attorney who had 
given him the disinterested advice, and found him afterwards to 
be a valuable ally, as well as a congenial companion. 

The day was foggy, cold and disagreeable. It had rained hard 
during the night, the roads were muddy and slippery, and the 
watercourses swollen and difficult to ford. Still all the witnesses 


The K. K. K. 


138 

in the Ankerstrom case were on hand before nine o’clock, the 
hour at which court would open. Templeton and Youngblood, 
the new attorney, got them all together in the lower story of the 
court-house, and a roll-call developed the fact that not one was 
missing. Mrs. Hopson, the poor lady whose pantry had been 
robbed, was present, and had brought her little daughter along 
for the reason, as she said, that the little s'irl had kept one eye on 
the marauder during the whole time he was in the house, while 
each of the boys had his head under the cover. Templeton could 
not see how her evidence would be material, but Youngblood ex- 
plained that flight was indicative of guilt, and this v/oman and 
child would prove that the defendant came half-famished to their 
house in the night time, with his head matted with leaves, show- 
ing he was in hiding somewhere near. For the same reason the 
testimony of Pete, who also answered to his name, would be rele- 
vant, as he saw the defendant creep from his lair in the briar patch. 
Jineral Beauregard would perhaps be excluded from the witness 
stand, upon the double ground that he would find difficulty in 
making himself understood and that there was nothing to show he 
entertained a belief in a Supreme Being. The good lady who in- 
formed Mrs. Bascombe of the hanging of Sandy was among the 
witnesses, dripping, but cheerful, and longing for the opportunity 
to go over the whole narration again for the edification of the 
court and bystanders. Many others were present, white, black, 
male, female, young, old, and Mr. Youngblood checked off the 
names of all on his paper as they answered to his call. 

Miss Sue Bascombe rode up while the roll-call was proceed- 
ing, mounted on a strong horse, the tail of which had been com- 
pactly clubbed to keep that ornament from being bespattered with 
mud. Templeton went out and helped her down. Then he es- 
corted her into the court-house and introduced her to Youngblood, 
who seemed to be much pleased to meet her. 

Mr. Randolph Pearson arrived early, and he and Templeton 
rented a vacant store for the accommodation of the numerous wit- 
nesses during the three or four days for which the trial was ex- 
pected to last. They also rented a barn close at hand, in which all 
the horses of the company could l)e stabled. Provender in abun- 
dance was bought and placed here, and Uncle Davy, from the 
Habersham place, was, upon recommendation of Templeton, put 
in charge of the improvised livery stable. These arrangements 
complete, the two gentlemen felt themselves ready to enter into a 


Some Jolly Good Fellows Meet at the Tavern. 139 

protracted engagement when the court-house bell rung at nine 
o’clock. 

Sheriff Sanderson had summoned a great array of jurors for the 
occasion. The accused at the trial would be entitled to twenty- 
four challenges without assigning any cause therefor, and the 
State to ten upon the same excellent grounds : there must be twelve 
jurors in the box, and so it required forty-six good and lawful 
men to constitute a panel. This was the least number that would 
suffice in any case where the indictment was for murder, but here 
the whole community was familiar with the shocking tragedy at the 
Bascombe place, and the exciting incidents attending the pursuit 
and capture of the prisoner, Ankerstrom, and many of those sum- 
moned would be disqualified, as it was difficult to find a citizen 
who had not formed an opinion as to the guilt of the accused. In 
Tennessee to be a competent juror one’s mind at the outset of the 
investigation must be like a sheet of blank paper, upon which law- 
yers, witnesses and the court will inscribe matter for subsequent 
consideration. The best juror in the world, one would think, 
would be an intelligent, fair-minded man who had formed per- 
haps an offhand opinion from newspaper reading and promiscu- 
ous talk, but who stood ready to discard such opinion and give 
the accused a fair hearing on the law and the evidence. Such a 
one with us, however, would be challenged for cause, as he would 
not be able to approach the investigation with an unbiased mind, 
while an ignoramus, incapable of reaching a sound conclusion on 
any subject, would be accepted as a competent juror. This rule 
not only operates to make the execution of the criminal law weak- 
est in those cases where it should be strongest, biit it not infre- 
quently balks entirely the administration of justice. News nowa- 
days travels fast and far, and when a shocking crime is committed 
rumor and the daily papers carry the details into the most re- 
mote neighborhoods. Prudent and thoughtful people form opin- 
ions that might be changed upon the hearing of more trustworthy 
evidence, and the weak and excitable jump to conclusions and 
form prejudices from rumor that cannot be afterwards shaken 
at all. The consequence is that the entire community is thus some- 
times disbarred from sitting as triers of the cause, and in a whole 
county not twelve men can be found who are competent jurors. 
This was practically the situation Sheriff Sanderson had to face 
when he went forth to obtain a panel in the Ankerstrom case. In- 
stead of forty-six men he summoned a hundred, many of whom 


The K. K. K. 


140 

were so ignorant that, to use his own expression, they hardly knew 
General Jackson was dead. These men were put down on the list 
in the hope that they might not have heard at all of the Bascombe 
murder. Yet as soon as they had gathered at the court-house 
Sanderson found they nearly all knew something of the case, and 
were ready to return a verdict of guilty against the prisoner be- 
fore a single witness was called to testify. 

Court opened at the usual hour, and the apartment in which the 
trial was to proceed was so packed with human beings that there 
was hardly standing room behind the bar. Within the railing the 
contracted space was nearly filled with lawyers, favored guests, 
and female witnesses, who were given seats here till the time came 
for them to be sworn and sent beyond the hearing of the evidence. 
After some delay the prisoner was brought in handcuffed and 
under charge of six or eight officers. This was not from appre- 
hension that he might escape, but for fear the excited and angry 
crowd would seize him as soon as they laid eyes on him and do 
him to death in the very hall of justice. Nothing but the well- 
known firmness of Sanderson prevented an outbreak as the officers 
edged their way through the throng ; and as it was the expression 
of animosity that rested on every countenance boded ill for the 
prisoner, for from this hostile assemblage were to be selected the 
twelve jurors who would decide his fate. 

“ Is the State ready? ” inquired the judge when the clerk had 
called the Ankerstrom case. 

The attorney-general sat by a table, and at his side was the 
young gentleman who had been employed as assistant counsel. 
This latter had a note-book and a well-sharpened pencil to take 
down the testimony of the various witnesses, there being no regu- 
lar stenographer at hand. 

“ The State is ready,” answered the attorney-general promptly, 
in response to the inquiry of the court. 

“ Is the defendant ready? ” inquired the judge, looking now in 
the direction of the prisoner. 

Palaver up to this moment had been engaged in friendly conver- 
sation with a brother attorney upon a subject wholly foreign to the 
matter in hand. When in the midst of this he found himself ac- 
costed by the judge, he rose and asked for a little time in which to 
confer with his client. Having retired to a back room he remained 
for some while, and then returned into court with the statement 
that he found it would be necessary to prepare an affidavit, and 


Some Jolly Good Fellows Meet at the Tavern. 141 

he hoped the honorable court would indulge him for a reasonalde 
length of time while he devoted himself to this task. He was ab- 
sent now for full three-quarters of an hour ; indeed, remained away 
so long that first the bystanders, and then the judge, grew im- 
patient. 

The sheriff was sent into the back room to notify the attorney 
that the court was waiting on him. He found Palaver leaning 
back in a chair, with his heels cocked up on the window sill, puff- 
ing away comfortably at a cigar. The sheriff imparted to him the 
information that business in the front room was being delayed in 
consequence of his absence. 

You don’t say so? ” exclaimed Palaver, as if astonished at the 
intelligence. “ Why, Sanderson, you should have notified me 
sooner. I supposed, of course, that some other matter was engag- 
ing the attention of the court.” 

The fact is it was a favorite trick of the attorney’s, and one by 
which he often won, to occupy so much time with preliminaries 
that the impatient judge would call another case, the consideration 
of which might consume the entire day. The next morning fresh 
causes would have precedence over those which had been set for 
the day before, and thus his case would go over to the succeeding 
term without his ever having applied for a continuance. 

Now he came hustling into the court-room immediately in the 
rear of the sheriff, and apologized for the length of time he had 
consumed in preparing his paper, assuring the court that he had 
no wish whatever to delay proceedings. He then read aloud a 
document, which had been previously sworn to by his client, stat- 
ing that owing to the unreasonable excitement and prejudice which 
had been formed in the public mind, and still existed against the 
accused, he could not safely go to trial at that term and place ; 
and — the affidavit went on to say — as it was impossible to obtain 
an impartial jury in the county where the homicide had been com- 
mitted, and as there was no likelihood that the unreasonable preju- 
dice against the defendant would soon abate, he prayed the honor- 
able court to grant him a change of venue to an adjoining county, 
where the citizens were free from bias against him. 

This application evidently was not unexpected to the attorney- 
general and the young lawyer associated with him in the case, 
but it came as a complete surprise to Templeton and Pearson 
and the large number of witnesses whose attendance they had la- 
bored faithfully to secure. Palaver opened the argument with a 


142 


The K. K. K. 


persuasive talk in support of his application, and the attorney-gen- 
eral, when it came his turn to speak, combated the motion vigor- 
ously. A large number of jurors, he said, had been summoned 
and brought to court, and it was a reflection on them to say that 
the prisoner could not get a fair trial among so many. Nu- 
merous witnesses, too, were present; all of whom had come over 
bad roads in midwinter at great inconvenience to themselves. 
Many of these witnesses were women, and it would be a hardship 
to require them to return to their several homes and travel at an- 
other time, three or four months hence, to a different county for 
the purpose of giving in their evidence. It was the third time 
most of these witnesses had been compelled to come to court. 
They had appeared and testified before the grand jury; they had 
attended a second time when the case was continued on affidavit 
of defendant’s attorney at the last term, and now they were here 
again under summons from the State to give in their evidence 
against the prisoner. The case was one which had aroused wide- 
spread interest, and should be pushed to a conclusion, if for no 
other reason, because certain good and peaceable citizens in the lo- 
cality of the crime had upheld the dignity of the law and had in- 
sisted that in ‘the case of the prisoner justice -should be admin- 
istered by the proper authorities and not by mob violence. These 
good citizens had set a praiseworthy example, and it would be a 
bitter disappointment to them now if k was demonstrated that 
the law of the State was practically incapable of ‘dealing with 
grave crimes like the one unckr consideration. 

More matter of a weighty nature did the attorney-general deliver 
himself of in his address to the court. Palaver listened gravely 
to the whole, and upon its conclusion he complimented the State’s 
officer privately upon his able argument, declaring it was the best 
he had heard in many years. When he came to reply publicly, 
however, he said he was surprised a man should want to take up 
the valuable time of the court with such idle talk as that to which 
he had just listened. The humblest human being charged with 
crime had the right to a fair trial before an impartial jury, and it 
was the duty of the courts of the country to protect him in this 
right. If the accused here had committed the monstrous crime 
laid at his door his life must and should pay the penalty ; if he was 
not guilty all must agree he should go free. He was poor and a 
stranger within our gates, but life was sweet to him, as it was to us 
all. He stood here asking nothing more than that the issue upon 


Some Jolly Good Fellows Meet at the Tavern. 143 

which his existence hung should be decided by twelve impartial 
jurors, chosen from a community not inflamed by passion or preju- 
dice against him. No one would insist, no one could pretend, that 
the threatening crowd now gathered in the court-house was not bit- 
terly hostile to the prisoner. A jury impanelled from this assem- 
blage, or from the citizens of their county, would be a jury im- 
panelled to convict. The accused knew this to be a fact ; the sheriff 
knew it, the court knew it, and the attorneys on both sides knew 
it. “ Why, sir,” cried Palaver, warming up to his work, “ the 
strongest objection urged by the attorney-general to my application 
for change of venue is that to grant it would be discouraging to 
certain peaceable and law-abiding citizens, who, he says, have 
placed my client in custody of the law, and now look to the courts 
to have speedy justice done. As I understand the matter, sir, these 
peaceable and law-abiding citizens, whom he is so very desirous 
not to discourage, ran my client down with dogs, chased him round 
and round, sir, like a rabbit, through a briar patch and a broom 
sedge field ; popped away at him with their pistols as if it had 
been fine sport, and finally were about to murder him in cold blood, 
when the sheriff of the county luckily came along and rescued the 
poor fellow from their clutches. Yes, sir; yes, sir; yes, sir; and 
this is not the whole story by any means. That night, sir, that 
night, if the honorable court please, these same peaceable and law- 
abiding citizens followed my unfortunate client to the jail of their 
county, and sought there to wrest him from the custody of the law, 
and end his life by their own violent hands. Not satisfied with 
their first heroic exploit they came, if the honorable court please, 
with a mob at midnight, three hundred men against one, with the 
laudable intention of breaking down the doors of their own county 
prison and murdering a helpless human being whom they supposed 
to be confined therein. A second time they were foiled, for the 
sheriff of the county, anticipating their design, had removed the 
prisoner to another jail for safe keeping. Were they through, 
sir? Were they through, if the honorable court please? No, in- 
deed, sir. No, indeed, if the honorable court please. The hour 
for wreaking their vengeance was but postponed, for to-day, sir — 
to-day, if the honorable court please — this same murderous mob 
invades the sacred precincts of this temple of justice, regards my 
poor client with hungry eyes from behind the bar, and modestly 
asks that your honor shall now force upon him the mockery of a 
hearing with themselves as the triers of the cause. And who is it. 


The K. K. K. 


144 

sir, that heads this murderous mob and champions their cause here 
at the bar of justice? Who is it, sir, they have chosen for their 
spokesman, and who now stands urging that this helpless captive 
shall be delivered as a victim to their fury ? Strange to relate, it is 
the attorney-general for the State ” 

At this point Whackemall, whose temper was liable at any time 
to get the better of him, rose, and with a voice trembling from 
anger, informed the court that he did not propose to sit quiet and 
listen to such language as had just been uttered in his presence. 
“ If the prisoner’s counsel desires to become personal,” said he to 
the judge, ” it would be more becoming in him to reserve his scur- 
rilous flings till such time as they can be properly resented, and 
not to indulge in them here where he knows he has the sheriff to 
protect him.” 

Palaver bowed low and smiled. ‘‘ I’ll have the gentleman un- 
derstand,” he retorted, “ that I am here in the discharge of my 
duty, and that I do not propose to shrink from the discharge of 
that duty for fear my remarks may prove unpleasant even to so 
terrible an adversary as the attorney-general for the State.” 

“ And I’ll have you understand ” cried Whackemall, rising, 

and making fiercely toward him. 

‘‘ Order, gentlemen, order,” demanded the court, rapping vigor- 
ously on the judicial desk. 

“ Order, gentlemen, order,” demanded the sheriff, advancing, 
and standing between the two angry disputants. 

For a minute or two there was silence, and the crowd held its 
breath, expecting to witness a very exciting performance within 
the bar. Then Palaver spread his hands to indicate that his inten- 
tions were peaceful, and in unruffled tones resumed his remarks. 
There really was no occasion, he said, for this disturbance. He 
had not said a word calculated to wound the feelings of his friend, 
the attorney-general. At least he had not uttered a sentence which 
was intended to reflect upon him in the slightest particular. In 
making use of the language objected to he was not thinking at all 
of the State’s attorney, but designed his remarks to apply to a gang 
of unprincipled ruffians, — some of whom he now saw behind the 
bar, — whose conduct in hounding down the prisoner had been 
cowardly, and barbarous, and far more worthy of the savages that 
once trod the wilds of this country than of the civilized people 
who were supposed to inhabit it now. 

As Palaver uttered these scathing remarks he turned and bent 


Some Jolly Good Fellows Meet at the Tavern. 145 

his gaze fixedly on the crowd in the rear of the court-room. After 
a few moments he raised his hand slowly and pointed his fore- 
finger toward a certain corner, thus indicating that there were in- 
dividuals in that particular quarter to whom he had alluded in his 
previous remarks, and whom he now wished to hold up to public 
scorn. 

“ Don’t p’int that finger at me, old man,” cried a half-tipsy fel- 
low from the proscribed corner. “ Ef you do ” 

At this an uproar arose in the court-room, which it required sev- 
eral minutes of diligent effort on the part of the sheriff and his 
deputies to suppress. The entire assemblage was evidently at fever 
heat, and the slightest disturbance among them was sufficient to 
provoke the whole mass into angry demonstration. 


10 


146 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THERE BEING UNDUE EXCITEMENT IN THE PUBLIC MIND A CHANGE 

OF VENUE IS GRANTED IN THE ANKERSTROM CASE AN OLD 

FARMER RIDES OUT OF TOWN ON A YOUNG LADY^S HORSE^ AND 
THEREBY ADDS TO THE EXCITEMENT IN THE PUBLIC MIND. 

Whether Lawyer Palaver had intentionally provoked the dis- 
turbance that followed his heated remarks is a matter of some 
doubt. But certain it is that nothing could have been better calcu- 
lated to further the purpose he had in view, which was to post- 
pone the hearing of his cause, and have it certified to another 
county for trial. It had been demonstrated in an unmistakable way 
that the sentiment of the crowd behind the bar was hostile to the 
prisoner, and as this crowd was composed in great measure of 
those who had been summoned to court as jurors, it was evident 
that an impartial jury could not be selected from it. Judge With- 
erspoon was a just man, and one who was fearless in the discharge 
of his duty. As soon as quiet was restored in the court-room, with- 
out waiting to hear further argument on either side, he announced 
that in his opinion the accused could not in the then excited state 
of the public mind obtain the fair and impartial trial which the 
law guaranteed to the humblest citizen charged with a grave of- 
fense. A foul murder had been committed in the county ; this 
much there was no gainsaying. The entire community had been 
shocked by its perpetration, and the prejudice against the prisoner 
was strong, for rightly or wrongfully he was regarded as the au- 
thor of the crime. Under the circumstances justice demanded that 
he should be sent elsewhere for trial. The affidavit filed by the 
prisoner’s counsel contained sufficient matter to entitle him to a 
change of venue, and the case would be transferred to the neigh- 
boring county, in the jail of which the prisoner had been for some 
months confined, and where it was hoped there was no feeling 
either in his behalf or against him. 

Sheriff Sanderson, after the decision had been announced, qui- 


147 


A Change of Venue. 

etly withdrew with his prisoner from the court-house. The judge 
was one who they all knew would uphold at all hazards the maj- 
esty of the law ; the sheriff was an officer not to be lightly inter- 
fered with when in the discharge of his duty, and so no effort was 
made to molest Johan Ankerstrom as he was taken handcuffed 
from the court-room to the county jail. The excited crowd dis- 
persed, at least left the building, and found more room in the 
yard outside, as well as a more favorable position from which to 
vent its wrath and indignation. The more hot-headed among 
those gathered here openly advocated storming the jail and cap- 
turing the murderer of old Mrs. Bascombe at whatever cost. 
Some who indulged in this dangerous talk were duly sober, but the 
loudest had been rendered bold by intimate association with John 
Barleycorn. Pearson, calm and cool as usual, did what he could 
to allay the excitement and to suppress all attempt at violence. He 
and his trusted friends had resolved to appeal unto Caesar, and 
they were still determined to work and wait until a decree could 
be obtained from the tribunal whose aid they had sought. Tem- 
pleton, younger and more hasty, was fast losing again his rem- 
nant of patience, and had about reached the point where forbear- 
ance in his opinion was no longer a virtue. 

“ This is an outrage,’’ he cried to the young attorney whose ac- 
quaintance he had formed the night before, as the two wended 
their way to the tavern at the noon recess of the court. ‘‘ It’s noth- 
ing short of an outrage.” , 

The young attorney shrugged his shoulders and laughed. He 
did not wish to take open issue with his client, but it was evident 
he did not regard the proceeding as an outrage. 

“ Eight months have passed away since the murder of that good 
old woman,” continued Templeton, hotly, “ and yet we have hardly 
advanced a step toward the conviction and punishment of the 
scoundrel who slew her.” 

“ That’s a fact,” said the young attorney. 

“ And now we have to wait four months more, and the witnesses 
must all be dragged to another county to testify after they have 
made three trips to their county seat in the hope of being exam- 
ined and dismissed.” 

“ That’s true,” said the young attorney. 

“ It’s an infernal outrage, that’s what it is,” cried Templeton. 

The young attorney cleared his throat. 

“ Were you not astonished when the judge rendered his decis- 


148 


The K. K. K. 


“ No,” replied the young attorney, candidly, “ I was not. The 
fact is Judge Witherspoon could hardly have done otherwise. The 
affidavit contained sufficient ground for continuance and change of 
venue, and it was his duty to grant the application. He is a fear- 
less and upright judge, and you will respect him highly when you 
know him as we do.” 

Templeton was a little softened at this. He saw his companion 
was minded to uphold the dignity of his profession, and he re- 
spected him the more highly for it. “ Well,” he continued, “ you 
lawyers have your own way of looking at things, but to me a pro- 
ceeding of this sort seems wholly unjustifiable. Twelve just and 
intelligent men could certainly have been found in this county to 
try that scoundrel, and I cannot see why the effort was not made 
to get them. The men who were brought to court were for the 
most part ignorant and prejudiced, and I cannot say I think it 
would have been right to permit these to sit on the prisoner’s case. 
But why not have summoned a number of the most intelligent men 
in the county, and leave the question of guilt or innocence to 
them ? ” 

Because all the intelligent men in this small county have 
formed opinions which would render them incompetent as jurors. 
The crime was a most shocking one, and the details are known to 
all your citizens.” 

” Good men,” answered Templeton, “ can discard opinions 
hastily formed, and being charged with the grave responsibility 
of trying a human being for his life they can render an honest 
verdict on the evidence brought before them. Such jurors might 
not be acceptable to guilty men brought to the bar of justice, but 
they would render verdicts that the community would respect.” 

” Maybe so,” answered the lawyer, ” but nevertheless under our 
system they would not be competent jurors, for no one who has 
formed or expressed an opinion can serve on a jury in Ten- 
nessee.” 

Then it has been practically settled since the date of this fel- 
low’s arrest that he could not be tried in the county where he com- 
mitted the murder. The crime being a monstrous one, you lawyers 
and the judge have known for months that he could not be made 
to answer for it here where all the facts had been freely dis- 
cussed ? ” 

“ I think it has been pretty generally understood that a jury 
could not be gotten in this county to try the prisoner.” 


A Change of Venue. 149 

“ Why, then, did not the judge order the case transferred to an- 
other county as soon as the indictment was found ? ” 

“ Because the prisoner under our constitution is entitled to a 
fair trial before a jury of the county where the crime is alleged 
to have been committed. He can waive this right, but the judge 
cannot take it away from him without his consent.” 

** The judge cannot order a change of venue unless the accused 
asks for it ? ” 

‘‘ That is so.” 

“ Suppose he never does ask for it ? ” 

“ The judge would be tempted after a while to force him to 
trial before a prejudiced jury. It’s a dangerous thing to press the 
court too far.” 

“ He: can sorely try the patience of the court and the commu- 
nity, but he must not exhaust it.” 

The young attorney laughed again, but made no reply. 

“ Well,” said Templeton, musingly, “ if the judge knew the 
prisoner could not get a legal jury in this county, and the judge 
knew he could not of his own motion transfer the case to another 
county, why did not the judge order a jury to be brought from 
another county to serve here ? ” 

“ That would have been in violation of the prisoner’s constitu- 
tional right to a trial before a jury of his own county.” 

“ That would have effected a considerable saving in the matter 
of public expense. It would also have been a great favor to the 
witnesses who have traveled to court threef times now, and who 
are growing wearied of being dragged about in this way.” 

“ Yes, it is so, but under our constitution the plan you suggest 
could not have been adopted.” 

“ Hum, hum, hum,” pursued Templeton, as they walked along. 
“ Let me get this thing straight in my head. I’m but a farmer, 
you know, and don’t understand the working of our system quite 
so well as you lawyers. If I commit a horrible murder in any 
county of this State, and am apprehended for it, first all the wit- 
neses against me must be made to travel to court to testify before 
the grand jury.” 

‘‘ First,” said the attorney, “ they would perhaps be required to 
appear and testify before a justice of the peace, who would bind 
you over to await the action of the grand jury.” 

“ Oh, that’s the beginning point, is it? ” said Templeton. “ Very 
well, now I have it. First, they go before a justice of the peace 


The K. K. K. 


150 

and tell their tale ; then they wait possibly as much as four months, 
and go before the grand jury and tell their tale; then they wait a 
while longer, and go before the court to tell their tale ; but here I 
demand that they all be made to go home and return later on, be- 
cause of a just prejudice existing against me in the public mind. 
Four months later they come again, but now I demand that they 
all go home once more, and meet me still four months later in an- 
other county, because the just prejudice still exists against me 
among the people I have deeply wronged. There is no help for it, 
and judge, witnesses, and all are compelled to do my bidding. 
After a while those summoned to testify grow weary see-sawing 
between their homes and the courts, and I stand an excellent 
chance to escape the penalty of my crime altogether.^' 

“ Under our system ” began the attorney. 

“ Oh, yes, I understand,” interrupted Templeton. “ Under our 
system the thing works out this way. Under our system, it seems, 
the good citizen is not entitled to any consideration at all, and the 
scoundrel is entitled to a great deal. And the bigger scoundrel 
a man is the more consideration he is entitled to. That’s the way 
it looks to me under our system.” 

You are exasperated,” said the attorney, laughing. “ I can’t 
say I blame you much for feeling as you do, and yet the right of 
trial by jury, and by a fair jury, is an old one. It descended to us 
from our ancestors, and all the prerogatives extended to the ac- 
cused, which seem to you so absurd, have been found in the past 
to be necessary safeguards to protect the weak and oppressed 
against the strong and tyrannical.” 

“ All mighty fine,” quoth Templeton, ” but the danger now is 
not that the strong and tyrannical will oppress the weak, but that 
common scoundrels will go un whipped of justice, and the commu- 
nity have no protection from their misdeeds. The law as now ad- 
ministered, Mr. Lawyer, is too tender toward villains, and it’s no 
wonder honest folks are fast losing patience with it.” 

“To comprehend any system,” replied the attorney, “ you must 
go to the root of it. At one time in England there was a disposi- 
tion on the part of the barons to grind the commoners ” 

“ Let me tell you a thing, sir,” interrupted Mr. Bob Lee Temple- 
ton, “ that perhaps will astonish you. The barons of whom you 
speak, and likewise the commoners, have been dead and buried 
these hundreds of years — these hundreds of years — I tell you, and 
you have no more right to weigh us down with the old rules and 


A Change of Venue. 151 

safeguards made to fit their case than you have to clap on us 
the heavy helmets and breastplates that must have made ’em 
stagger as they walked.” 

“ I have a suggestion to make,” replied the attorney, “ which 
perhaps will induce you to modify your views on this subject.” 

“ What is it? ” cried Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. 

“ Let’s take a drink.” 

Mr. R. L. Templeton smiled. “ Well,” he remarked to his com- 
panion, “ you fellows took me up in a balloon last night, and I’ve 
been feeling all morning as if I’d like to come down on a para- 
chute.” 

There was a place of business not far away that had in front 
latticed green doors swinging either way to suit the convenience 
of the customer. Taking the arm of Mr. Bob Lee Templeton the 
young lawyer and he presently disappeared behind these green 
doors, and further this deponent saith not. 

About the noon hour Sheriff Sanderson, having partaken of an 
early dinner, set out with his prisoner for the adjoining county, 
the jail of which was destined to be the residence of the latter at 
least until the following term of the circuit court, some four 
months off. None but these two took the road, as Sanderson was 
satisfied there would be no serious attempt to wrest Ankerstrom 
from his custody, and he did not fear his escape during the jour- 
ney. It was not far from midnight when he reached his destina- 
tion and bade good-by to his sullen captive, to whom he had 
shown every kindness in his power, for that was Sanderson’s 
way. Having again taken a receipt for his man from the jailer, 
and washed his hands of all further responsibility as to his keep- 
ing, the sheriff sought a bed at a good boarding-house in the 
town, and almost as soon as he touched it dropped into a sound 
sleep. 

Back at Ashton the court ground on all the afternoon, the law- 
yers dull and listless and playing, in theatrical parlance, to a slim 
house. A single deputy was sufficient to keep order in court and 
execute the mandates of the judge, and he did not find his duties 
very fatiguing. The quarrel between Palaver and Whackemall, 
which in the forenoon had looked alarming, was now healed with- 
out much effort. The two gentlemen laughed over the matter in 
a back room, and shook hands cordially when their interview 
ended. 

Miss Sue Bascombe had to do a little shopping before she 


I52 


The K. K. K. 


wended her way homeward, for country folk must avail them- 
selves of every occasion that demands a visit to town, and it was 
growing late when she signified her willingness to depart. The 
horses of her party, and many others, had been stabled in a barn 
a little way ofif from the tavern, and left there in charge of the old 
negro, Uncle Davy, employed for the occasion. A considerable 
number still remained, though a majority of the animals had been 
taken away, when a servant was sent to the place to saddle and 
bring out Dandy Jim. Presently he returned with the surprising 
information that the horse had been already called for and carried 
off. Supposing there was some mistake on the part of the old 
man* left in charge at the barn, Templeton went thither and made 
diligent personal search, but failed to find the stout and active 
animal that had borne Miss Sue to town that morning. When a 
report to this effect reached the tavern the young lady herself 
visited the barn, and joined her anxious inquiry to that of others 
in endeavoring to ascertain by what means her property had been 
disposed of without her consent. Dandy Jim was a horse far 
above the average both in looks and qualities, and the old negro 
remembered him distinctly. 

“ Yas’m,’' he said in response to Miss Bascombe’s somewhat 
sharp demand for an explanation, “ I ’members dat boss mighty 
well. He ain’t no common boss, dat boss ain’t, and hit stands to 
reason dat a pusson wa’n’t gwine to forgit him atter dey once 
seed him. Here comes a ole gen’lemun, do, treckly atter dinner, 
and say he ’bleeged to have dat boss fur to go right away and fetch 
some witnesses what been leff behind at de trial. He gim me a 
dime fur to make me git a move on myself, and say he cornin’ back 
presen’ly, and he was sich a honest lookin’ ole gen’lemun dat, ’fo’ 
God, I never s’picioned nothin’ wrong about him.” 

“ Where did he -say he was going? ” inquired Miss Sue. 

“ He say he gwine out atter a witness, I tell you, and cornin’ 
back presently. Dat’s what he say, and he gin me a paper — whar 
is dat paper?” And the old man began fumbling about in his 
pockets. When he had searched there in vain he looked in his 
hat and found a crumpled note, which he handed the young lady. 

Read dat,” he said, triumphantly. “ Dat will ’splain de whole 
business.” 

Miss Sue took the paper and read aloud the contents, written 
in a smooth clerkly hand : 


A Change of Venue. 153 

Let Mr. David Hammersmith have my horse and Mr. Lee 
Templeton’s saddle, to be returned without delay. 

“ Susan Bascombe. 

“ January — , 18 — 

The girl turned the paper over in her hand and looked round 
on those present in considerable surprise. “ Well, did you ever? ” 
she exclaimed. “ Why, I never signed my name Susan Bascombe 
in my life. Everybody calls me Sue.” 

One part of this remarkable order had made a particular im- 
pression on the mind of Mr. Lee Templeton. The horse he had 
ridden was a fairly good one, but his saddle was superfine. He 
went promptly to the spot where it should have hung and found 
it missing. Mr. Templeton was generally careful in the selection 
of words to express his ideas, but he used now an exclamation 
which would hardly have been becoming under any circumstances, 
and certainly was not fit to be uttered in the presence of a lady. 

They say misery loves company, and when Miss Susan Bas- 
combe beheld his rather rueful countenance and heard the re- 
mark he was surprised into uttering, she clasped her hands and 
laughed heartily. 

“ He got you too, did he ? ” cried the young lady. 

** That saddle and bridle and blanket,” remarked Mr. Temple- 
ton, not directly replying, “ would have been cheap at fifty dol- 
lars. And the infernal rascal took ’em all.” 

“ The order only called for the saddle,” said Miss Sue. 

“Can you read old man?” inquired Templeton, turning 
abruptly toward the custodian of his goods. 

“ Naw, sir, I can’t,” answered the individual addressed. “ But 
dar’s my granddaughter Meriky, she kin read right straight 
along. She read dat paper out loud to me, and dat’s de way I 
got de sense of it. I kin hear ef I can’t read.” 

“ Did that paper say anything about my blanket and bridle? ” 

“ Naw, marster, hit didn’t ; but den don’t ev’ybody know de bri- 
dle and blanket goes wid de saddle? ’Pears to me any fool mout 
know dat.” 

Miss Sue still held the mischief-making paper in her hand. 
Templeton approached, and, standing by her, read the contents 
for himself. Mr. Randolph Pearson was absent on some other 
business and had not yet been informed of the robbery, for such 
it clearly was. 


154 The K. K. K. 

Aliss Sue looked at Mr. Templeton, and Mr. Templeton looked 
at Miss Bascombe. 

“ Dandy Jim,” said the young lady, “ was one of the best horses 
in all this country, and Tm going to have him back if money and 
friends can get him back.” 

“ And ril be one of the friends to help bring him back,” re- 
plied the young gentleman, gallantly. ” As for the saddle and bri- 
dle and blanket, they may go to the d ” 

“ Dogs,” suggested the young lady. 

“ That’s it,” answered Templeton. “ That’s the word I was 
trying to think of.” 

What sort of a looking man was he now that brought this or- 
der ? ” inquired Miss Bascombe of the old negro. 

“ He was a farmer-like kind of a lookin’ old man, mistis,” was the 
reply, “ and yit he didn’t look so very much like a farmer man 
nother. He had on a slouch hat, rusty, and wore out on de top; 
and he had on a pair of big brown jeans breeches, v/id bedtick 
galluses ; and he had on a shirt widout no pleats in de bosom ; 
and he had on a pa’r of shoes what stood mightily in need of 
blackenin’. All dat, you may say, made him look kinder farmer- 
like. But den his hands, whilst dey was dirty enough, was leetle 
small hands ; and I look up under his coat sleeves and seed his 
arms was white, which showed de sun never did have no purchase 
on ’em. I sized him up, I did, when he fotched dat paper, and I 
say to myself dis here gen’lemun is bound to be a farmer, and yit, 
I say to myself, he is likewise a cur’ous farmer.” 

“ You don’t often see a farmer who can write that sort of a 
hand,” said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, inspecting the paper criti- 
cally. 

Miss Bascombe examined the instrument more carefully now 
for herself. “ A farmer didn’t write that,” she said emphatically. 
” A farmer’s fingers would be too stiff to do such neat penman’s 
work. And besides,” she added, looking seriously into Air. Tem- 
pleton’s face, “ farmers are not forgers and horse thieves.” 

“ That is so,” replied Air. Bob Lee Templeton. 

** That is undoubtedly so,” repeated the young lady. 

What did the old gentleman, as you call him, say when he 
gave you this? ” inquired Templeton of the negro man. 

“ He never hardly open his mouth. He act like he kinder deef. 
I b’lieve he was deef, de way he done. He gin me a dime, I tell 
you, and make signs for me to be in a hurry, and p’int to de court- 


A Change of Venue. i5S 

house, and den to de country, and say ‘ vitness, vitness,’ two, 
three times. Den I knowed he was atter witnesses fur de court, 
and had de law behind him.” 

“ He’s a smooth scoundrel,” said Miss Bascombe. “ That’s what 
he is, and I lay he’s an old hand at this business.” 

All this, however, did not bring back Dandy Jim ; nor did it re- 
place the saddle, bridle, and blanket of Mr. Robert Lee Temple- 
ton. 

“ What are we going to do now ? ” inquired Miss Sue, in a per- 
plexed tone, and not addressing apparently anybody in particu- 
lar. 

Mr. Templeton for a moment or two did not undertake to solve 
the difficulty. He had on his studying cap. 

“ Never mind,” said Uncle Davy, who wished to be consoling. 
“ I specks de deef ole gen’lemun be back presn’ly.” 

You’re a fool,” said Mr. Robert Lee Templeton. 

“ I ain’t no fool, marster,” replied Uncle Davy, with some spirit, 
“ and your sayin’ so don’t make it so, nother.” 

While they stood turning over the perplexing situation in their 
minds a messenger came to say that Pearson had just heard of 
the robbery, and had heard the direction in which the thief went. 
With three or four others he had started off post haste in pur- 
suit, and now sent word to his friend Templeton to escort Miss 
Bascombe home, as he himself might not return before to-morrow. 
This commission Templeton cheerfully undertook to execute, and 
immediately set about contriving a plan by which it could be car- 
ried out. He looked at the young lady, and the young lady looked 
at him, and each for the moment wore a rather puzzled ex- 
pression. 

“ I have a pretty good horse,” said the young gentleman to the 
young lady. 

‘‘ I have a pretty good saddle,” replied the young lady to the 
young gentleman. 

The young gentleman here whistled a little very softly, not for 
want of thought, but because he was deeply cogitating. Then he 
raised his eyes and gazed upon the young lady for a moment. 

“ There isn’t any help for it,” remarked the young lady, 
gravely. 

Then Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, being a man of affairs, led forth 
his horse — which was not as reliable an animal as the one he had 
lost some weeks previous — and placed upon its back the young 


The K. K. K. 


156 

lady’s side saddle and buckled the girth tightly, and took his watch 
from hi<; vest pocket and consulted it. 

“ It’s ten minutes to four,” remarked Mr. Templeton to the 
young lady, ” and the place you wish to reach to-night is five miles 
away. If we don’t hurry it will be dark before we get there.” 

Then Miss Sue Bascombe went out to the fence a few yards 
away — it was a tumble-down old rail fence — and climbed upon 
it, and from this vantage point transferred herself easily to the 
side saddle when Mr. Templeton’s horse was brought near. The 
young gentleman next climbed upon the fence, when the horse, 
perceiving his intention, began to fidget and sidled off a few feet. 

“ I’m not sure he’ll tote double,” remarked Mr. Templeton. 

“ We’ll make him,” replied the young lady, and immediately 
switched the refractory animal to its proper place by the fence. 

Mr. Templeton gave a leap — he had taken a course of gymnas- 
tics at school — and lit on the back of the horse and behind the 
saddle, and likewise behind the young lady, who sat erect in front 
holding the reins tightly. , 

All this occurred in the broad open daytime, and in the imme- 
diate presence not only of Uncle Davy and his little granddaugh- 
ter, but of other interested spectators. 

Uncle Davy, when they set out, pointed them to a near cut by 
which they might save some distance and avoid curious eyes in the 
town, but Miss Sue preferred guiding her horse down the main 
street, and Mr. Bob Lee Templeton raised no verbal objection. So 
they journeyed, and soon discovered that the horse would tote 
double nicely enough. So they journeyed, and before a great 
while a pleasant conversation sprang up between them to enliven 
the way. 

“ I’m very glad,” remarked Mr. Bob Lee Templeton — who 
usually found the bright side of a situation if there was any bright 
side — “ that I’ve got a good saddle blanket under me.” 

“ It is fortunate,” replied the young lady. 

“ And that the horse will tote double.” 

“ Very lucky.” 

“ And that I have a nice girl in the saddle in front of me.” 

'' Glad you think so.” 

“ Fact is,” said Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, “ I feel pleased some- 
how right now, when by all the rules of logic I ought to feel 
wretched, having had such a run of bad luck to-day.” 

The young lady did not reply. 


157 


A Change of Venue. 

Fact is/’ continued Mr. Templeton — who had studied mental 
and moral philosophy at school — “ the human mind is a very 
curious particle. We are frequently sad in the midst of joyous 
surroundings, and often merry when a rueful countenance would 
more become us.” 

“ So Fm told,” replied the young lady. 

At this point the horse began to prick his ears and seemed disin- 
clined to go by some object ahead on the roadside. She gave him 
a sharp cut to let him understand she proposed to make him go 
by. Not expecting the application of the lash the horse jumped. 
Not expecting the horse to jump Mr. Templeton was taken un- 
awares, and came near losing his seat on the saddle olanket. To 
save himself he threw both arms about the lady’s waist. The 
reader will bear in mind that he was bound to catch hold of some- 
thing, and there was nothing else to catch hold of. Just as soon 
as he could he turned loose, as it was meet, right and proper to 
do. 

But the incident, and the situation generally, stirred the soul of 
the young man to its depths. There is a species of intoxication that 
cometh not from strong drink, but from more ethereal stimulants. 
Nevertheless it is intoxication, and those subject to its influence 
should not be held legally responsible for their words or conduct. 
Mr. Templeton recovered his equilibrium upon the horse, but he 
did not recover his mental equilibrium, which he had been grad- 
ually losing for the past two or three miles of his way. 

“ You were speaking,” remarked the young lady sweetly, “ of 
the singular fact that we sometimes feel pleased and cheerful when 
we have just met with misfortunes well calculated to discourage 
and dishearten us.” 

‘‘ I was,” replied the young gentleman, “ but when we reflect 
upon the incongruity of such a state we usually find that it arises 
from the fact that while annoying accidents have indeed befallen 
us, their consequences are more than offset by some countervailing 
blessing that has immediately followed.” 

“ That’s very pretty,” replied the young lady, “ but I don’t un- 
derstand you.” 

“ Miss Sue,” remarked the youth gravely from his seat on the 
saddle blanket, “ you cannot fail to understand me. You do not 
need to be told that while the old judge knocked us out in the 
court-room, and a villainous thief served us just as badly in the 
stable, these trivial setbacks are as nothing when compared with 


158 


The K. K. K. 


the supreme happiness of riding close behind you on this saddle 
blanket. You are a young lady of penetration, and you will there- 
fore not be in the least surprised when I declare ” 

“ Why, ain’t you ashamed of yourself ? ” cried the young lady 
from her seat in the saddle. ‘‘ You know you’re in love with Polly 
Habersham.” 

“ That’s a fact, so I am,” replied Mr. Bob Lee Templeton 
heartily. 

And they changed the subject. 


Two Cave-Dwellers. 


159 


CHAPTER XVIL 

IN WHICH THE READER IS INTRODUCED TO TWO CAVE-DWELLERS NOT 

OF THE PREHISTORIC KIND. 

A BLACK fellow sat parching coffee over a slow fire. The odor 
from the brown grains rose and filled the still, heavy atmosphere 
of the cavern in which the fire had been built. The glare of the 
flame lit up the ragged wall around and showed a small apartment 
nearly circular in form, not more than fifteen or twenty feet in 
diameter, and with a ceiling that dipped on one side within five 
feet of the ground and on the opposite side was double that 
height. A break in the wall on the lower side led into a dark 
passage without. This opening was hardly large enough for a 
stout man to crawl through. The interior space was evidently but 
a niche in the cavern, which at the expenditure of some little labor 
had been made habitable for human beings. Fragments of rock 
had been rolled from the center of the open space and placed 
against the walls. The floor had been smoothed down, at least 
to such extent as to make it tolerably good treading for the feet. 
Not far from the fire was a heap of blankets and a confused mass 
of straw, which manifestly had been used for bedding. Now a 
pleasant-faced white youth sat on this heap, hugging his knees 
with his arms and blinking like an owl as he lazily regarded the 
African at the fire. 

“ He stays a good while,” said the white youth, yawning, and 
presumably addressing the negro, as there was no one else in view. 

The black man stirred the coffee, then took up the skillet and 
shook it to keep the grains from burning. Replacing it on the 
coals he answered : 

‘‘ ril bet he brings a good one when he comes. Dat ole man’s 
a captain.” 

“ If he does,” replied the other, “ it will be more than you did 
the last time. That infernal horse was so broken winded I could 
hardly get to the end of the first stage with him. They let him 


t6o The K. K. K. 

take it easy after that, but we haven’t got him off our hands 
yet.” 

“ I was fooled in dat boss,” said the negro. ” He was up- 
headed, and stepped proud, and carried hisself so grand he tuck 
my eye de minit I seed him. I sho thought he was wuth a fortune, 
but stidder dat he wa’n’t wuth a damn.” 

At this the gentleman on the straw pile laughed. “ You ain’t 
much judge of horseflesh no way, are you, Sam? ” he asked. 

Naw, I ain’t. I owns to dat. You see, Mr. Hardrider, I’m 
new in dis business. My main line has been crap-shootin’, and 
whilst I was in Alabam’ I used to branch off from dat once in a 
while and make a little money by gwine into houses of nights. 
But I got most too heavy for dat sort of business and had to quit. 
Dar wa’n’t much in it no way. Rich men put dar money in de 
bank to keep from losin’ it, and po’ folks didn’t have none to lose, 
so you got most as much out’n one sort as t’other. Sometimes you 
struck a good watch, but dat was d — d seldom, and when you did 
dar wa’n’t no way of gittin’ rid of it. It was a heap more liable 
to git you into trouble dan it was to put money in your pocket. De 
last one I tuck I flung in de creek, but some boys fished it out, and 
dey got atter me so dost ’bout de d — d thing dat I had to leave 
dem parts, and I leff in a hurry. I come up here, and was hard 
put to it for a while, but I accidentally run up on de ole man one 
day, and he tuck me, and made a gen’lemun out’n me.” 

“ The old man’s a trump,” said the individual in the straw. 

Dat’s what he is,” answered the negro. 

“ He sets a heap of store by that d — d son of his.” 

“ Dat’s his weakness.” 

“ Like as not he’s fooling away his time now listening to that 
trial in the court-house.” 

“ Dar ain’t gwy to be no trial.” 

How do you know ? ” 

Kase de ole man said so dis mornin’. Dat smart lawyer er 
his’n ain’t made up his mind to go to de jury yit, and he ain’t gwine 
to de jury till he git ready. He tell de ole man he gwy worry de 
life out’n de witnesses travelin’ backwards and forwards to court, 
and fust thing you know he gwy ketch de t’other side when dey 
ain’t ready ; den he gwy push a trial and clear his man.” 

I wish they’d try him to-day and hang him to-morrow,” said 
the gentleman in the straw. ” He’s no good, and the old man 
ain’t fit for business whilst they’ve got him tied up. He’s like 


Two Cave-Dwellers. 


i6i 


a cow with her calf in the pen ; he keeps hanging round.” 

“ It’s naturV’ said the African. 

Natur’ or not, it’s playing hell with our business,” replied the 
white man. ” I ought to have rid last night, and my partner, you 
may bet your life, was on hand to meet me at the right place, for 
he’s the kind that never breaks an engagement. He ought to do 
the riding to-night, and the next man to-morrow night, and so 
we’d keep things lively. But how in the hell can we ride when 
we’ve got nothing to ride on ? Everything is out of gear because 
the old man forgets his business, and goes poking about after his 
thick-skulled son. It ain’t right, I tell you. The old man worked 
up this plan and he oughtn’t to lie down on us now.” 

” It’s natur’,” repeated the negro. “ Brutes and humans, dey 
ain’t none of ’em gwine agin natur’.” 

“ If I had such a son, or such a brother,” said the other, “ d — n 
me, Sam, if I didn’t go agin natur’ one time and take him out 
and kill him. He’s the beastliest mortal I ever heard tell of, that 
fellow Johan is. Look what he done the last time, and say 
whether he oughtn’t to swing for it. He goes to a poor old 
woman’s house, burns it to the ground, knocks her brains out with 
an ax, and when another fellow is took up for his devilment, he 
jines a mob and helps to hang him. That’s what he does, this 
here precious Jackey, and I say it beats the world. Search the 
Scriptures, and you won’t find no mention of such a case. The 
Cain and Abel business wa’n’t a patchin’ to it.” 

“ He made a bad break and no mistake,” replied the black fel- 
low, heaving the coffee grains as he spoke into a tin pan by his 
side. 

” I should say so. Them what has a mind to make such breaks 
ought to break out of this world and into a hotter one. Their 
friends hadn’t ought to give ’em any countenance, and their 
parents hadn’t ought to give ’em any countenance. I ain’t no 
saint, mind you ; and don’t set myself up for a saint, mind you ; 
but I don’t belong in the same world with this here Johan Anker- 
strom. I know something about him outside of this last trans- 
action, and I tell you he’s a cross between a hog and a dog. When 
it comes to prowling round at nights he’s a dog, and he ain’t got no 
more natural affection than a hog. If he was loose and the old 
man in his fix, he wouldn’t turn over his hand to help him out of 
the scrape ; and like as not he’d go to the hanging when the wind- 
up came and laugh at his daddy dancing on nothing.” 

II 


i 62 


The K. K. K. 


“ I never seed him,” answered Sam. 

“ No, and you needn’t never want to see him. He’s just a 
damned stupid brute, not worth the fee the meanest shyster of a 
lawyer would charge to take his case. You couldn’t fit him for 
our business, no not in a thousand years if he was in training the 
whole time.” 

“ Our business ain’t no easy business to follow, when you come 
to steddy ’bout it, Mr. Hardrider,” said the negro with some pride. 
“ It kinder lifts a man up, and makes him think more of himself 
when he takes to such a bold callin’ as ourn.” 

“ Sam, you’re right,” replied Mr. Hardrider with emphasis. 
” You’ve hit the nail just exactly on the head. Our calling is a 
bold calling, as you say, and it’s a calling that lifts a man up, as 
you say. A gentleman must have something to amuse him on his 
way through the world, and I follow this here calling, Sam, mainly 
for the excitement that’s in it. Why, look a here now. Back in the 
stable, we’ll say, is a good horse that’s been took up just long 
enough to make him feel like prancing and stretching his legs, 
and to-night he’s going to have a chance to do both. You rub him 
down, give him a good feed of shelled oats — that’s your part of 
the business — and by ten or eleven o’clock I’m ready to mount and 
away. Up I gets — you holding the stirrup for me — and I sets 
out all by myself on a jolly night’s ride. I takes it slow when I’m 
going by houses where people live, and I takes it fast when I’m on 
a lonesome part of the road. If I meets anybody I slackens up, 
drops my right hand so I can pull my pistol handy, and rides by 
without saying a word. If t’other fellow wants to ask questions I 
stops, mind you, and answers him civil. I keeps my right hand 
on my gun whiles we are passing the compliments of the season, 
and when he’s out of sight and out of hearing I rides like hell. 
What would happen, says you, if he was the sheriff on the lookout 
for me? Why this would happen, Sammy, and nothing more 
Folks in the neighborhood would hear shooting, and there’d be a 
dead man found in the road next morning. Meb-be ’twould be the 
sheriff, meb-be ’twould be Mr. Hardrider ; all depending — you un- 
derstand, Sammy? — on which gentleman pulled first. Now ain’t 
that stimulating? Excitement, excitement, my friend, there’s lots 
of it and to spare in our business. But proceed, proceed, you 
say. Let us suppose a pleasant trip, and no dead man at all left 
in the road. Very good. About ten or eleven o’clock it was I 
started out, and shortly after midnight I’m over the line in Ken- 


Two Cave-Dwellers. 163 

tucky. No damned sheriff or constable can follow me over that 
line if he was ever so hot on my trail.” 

“ W’y not ? ” asked Sam innocently. 

“ Because it’s the law,” replied Mr. Hardrider gravely. “ The 
law is I can cross a State line when I choose, I not being a officer ; 
and the sheriff can’t cross a State line at all, he being a 
officer. It’s a dead line for him, you see, but not a dead line for 
me.” 

“ Oh,” replied Sam. 

“ That’s it,” continued Mr. Hardrider. ‘‘ So I crosses the State 
line and takes a swig at my bottle, which I haven’t did before, 
wishing to keep my head clear. To’ds day I reaches the place 
where the next man is waiting for me, and he takes the horse and 
hides him out where he can get another feed and curry and a 
good day’s rest. When night comes another gentleman mounts 
the horse and rides him to another station where number three 
is a waiting for him. Here’s another feed and another good rest 
and from that on they can take it easy and ride by day as well as 
night. So it goes until headquarters is reached and the horse 
is turned over to them as will get a fair price for him on the open 
market.” 

‘‘ Wot den? ” inquired Sam, who apparently had not as yet been 
thoroughly instructed in the details of the business he was en- 
gaged in. “ Does dem fellows away off yander keep all de 
money dey gits by de sale of de boss, or does dey ’vide up like 
gen’lemun ? ” 

Sometimes,” answered Mr. Hardrider, they give us a good 
slice out of the proceeds by way of commission, as they call it. 
Sometimes, when they get hold of a first-class man like me, they 
pay him a salary.” 

‘‘ You works on a salary, den? ” 

Mr. Hardrider shook his head. “ Not by a damned sight,” he 
replied nonchalantly. 

“Wot den?” Sam ventured to inquire, after waiting some 
moments for his companion to proceed. 

“ I’m no hireling,” remarked Mr. Hardrider to the negro. “ By 
God, I’m a gentleman.” 

“ Dat’s a fack, Mr. Hardrider,” replied Sam with evident sin- 
cerity in his tone. 

“ If I was a damned hireling,” continued Mr. Hardrider, 
“ where would the excitement be ? ” 


164 


The K. K. K. 


‘‘ Nowhars/’ responded Sam, as he stirred the coflfee. 

“ That’s it,” said the gentleman in the straw. “ If I was a hire- 
ling Td have to go where I was ordered, and do any kind of work 
they put me at. Meb-be ’twould be away off at t’other end of the 
line where there’s no excitement at all to speak of. As it is I’m 
my own man, and I’m right here in the thick of the fray, as one 
might say. If a horse is took anywhere in this here country, he’s 
brought to this here cave and stabled and rested and hid away 
from sight till the time comes to run him off. Then I mounts him 
as aforesaid, and bids you and the old man good-by, and has an 
all-night time of it with that ’ere horse.” 

‘‘ Even down so,” replied Sam. 

“ The fellow that took the horse, mind you, just slipped up to 
the stable when nobody was awake, bridled him, saddled him, and 
led him off a piece ; then mounted him and had him safely hid 
away here before the country could wake up and give chase. 
There wasn’t much excitement about that.” 

Sam shook his head. 

When I mount that ’ere horse it’s for an all-night ride, and it’s 
when the hull country knows that a horse has been took. There’s 
excitement about that, I should say.” 

Sam nodded his head. He not only nodded it to indicate ac- 
quiescence in Mr. Hardrider’s remark, but, his task being finished, 
lie nodded a second time, and gave unmistakable indications of 
being about to drop off to sleep. Mr. Hardrider noted this and 
passed in the course of his observations from dialogue to solil- 
oquy. 

I’m damned,” said Mr. Hardrider, addressing himself, but 
speaking loud enough to be overheard by his companion, “ if I 
hain’t a mind to turn honest.” 

“Wot?” cried Sam, sitting bolt upright and staring at the 
speaker in astonishment. 

“ I’m a notion,” said Mr. Hardrider, as though he was turning 
the thing over in his mind, “ to git on the side of the law.” 

“ Don’t you never do it,” cried Sam. 

“ I’ve been on this side,” continued Mr. Hardrider, “ until the 
edge of the thing, you may say, is kinder wearing off and the 
excitement dying out. Now, if I was on t’other side don’t you 
know I could make things damned lively for a while ? ” 

Don’t you never do it,” repeated Sam. 

“ Why look a here,” pursued Mr. Hardrider, “ if t’other side 


Two Cave-Dwellers. 


165 

was only to git a move on themselves and act prompt, same as we 
act prompt, don’t you know they could hold a pritty good hand 
with us? We has to be keen and sharp and always on the go. 
It’s a sleepy old crowd, them on t’other side.” 

” Don’t you never wake ’em up ! ” exclaimed Sam. 

“ If I was on t’other side,” Mr. Hardrider went on, half solilo- 
quizing and half addressing his companion, “ do you s’pose when 
a horse was took I’d wait for the owner to go hunt up the sheriff, 
and for the sheriff to ride round the county at his own cost hoping 
to stumble on the man what took him? No, sir. I’d offer a big 
reward in advance, and I’d give a permit to all officers to follow 
and arrest any suspicious character on horseback and hold him 
till his case was looked into. Then the man that took the horse 
wouldn’t have much the start of them that was after him, and 
there’d be a reward on both sides to make the race lively. The 
gentleman in front would be riding for the money there’d be in 
it to him if he got away safe with the horse, and them behind 
would be riding for the money there’d be in it to them if they 
overtook him.” 

” Sho-nuff,” said Sam. 

” Do you s’pose,” continued Mr. Hardrider, following up his 
train of thought, “ if I was on the side of the law, and the man 
what took the horse was captured and brought back. I’d wait a life- 
time before I made an example of him for to warn others ? ’Shaw ! 
there ain’t no business in that. If you’re going to try a man what 
bucks up against the law, try him quick ; if you’re going to pun- 
ish him, punish him quick. Drag him right to the front ; give 
him his say ; turn him loose if he’s not guilty, hang him up if he’s 
guilty ; that’s business.” 

“ Mighty true,” said Sam. 

‘‘ Do you know what the punishment is in Tennessee for this 
here trade we’re following?” inquired Mr. Hardrider of his 
auditor. 

The negro shook his head. 

Mr. Hardrider here drew an imaginary halter around his 
neck and made believe to attach it to some fixed object above 
him. 

” No ! ” cried the negro in considerable trepidation. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Hardrider, “ that’s it. Hung by the neck until 
you’re dead, and may the Lord have mercy ’pon your soul. 
That’s the way the State of Tennessee treats horse thieves — on 


The K. K. K. 


1 66 

paper. In fact, mind you, they mostly go to jail, fee a good law- 
yer to defend ’em, spend a few years in dignified retirement, and 
then come out and follow their old trade if their legs haven’t got 
so stiff as to unfit ’em for it.” 

The negro hugged his knees and gazed in silent admiration on 
his comrade. 

“ There’s only one kind of law down here in this country that 
men in our profession need to be afeerd of,” said Mr. Hard- 
rider. 

“ Wot kind o’ law is dat? ” inquired Sam. 

“ Mob law,” replied the speaker. 

Sam raised his hand by way of deprecation. Don’t name it, 
Mr. Hardrider,” he said. “ "Dat kind o’ law ain’t fitten to be 
named ’mongst gentlemen.” 

“ It’s like one of those Western tornadoes,” said Mr. Hardrider. 
“ It springs up of a sudden; wastes its fury on anything in its 
way, and dies out all at once. Smart folks can generally dodge 
it, but it’s hell on fools.” 

Sam continued to shake his head. “ I wishes to have nothing 
to do with it,” he expostulated. 

Mr. Hardrider pursued his reflections. “ If I was to turn 
honest now,” he said to Sam, “ do you know what I would 
do?” 

The negro shook his head. 

“ I’d say to ’em, I would, let’s take this here mob law what goes 
too fast, and this here court-house law what travels too slow, and 
roll ’em together, and make one good law that would jog along 
just about right. Let’s have — I’d say to ’em if I was to turn 
honest — a genuine up-to-date law that won’t neither throttle the 
wrong man in a hurry nor dilly-dally with the right man when it 
gets a holt on him.” 

“ That kind of a law,” said Sam, “ would ruin our busi- 
ness.” 

Mr. Hardrider arose and was apparently about to present some 
new ideas on the subject under discussion, when a low whistle 
stole into the rugged apartment where the two men sat. 

“ That must be the old man,” he said, addressing the negro. 

Without a word Sam rose, took up the lantern but did not 
light it and walked rapidly forward in the darkness toward the 
mouth of the cave. The white man remained still until the sound 
of the negro’s footsteps had died away, then he groped his own 


The Cave-Dwellers. 


167 

way farther back into the interior of the cave and secreted him- 
self behind some fragments of rock that had fallen from the roof 
of the cavern. He was quite sure the sound that reached his ear 
had come from one of his accomplices in guilt, but much dodging 
of law officers had made him wary as a fox. 


i68 


The K. K. K, 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE EXUBERANT FANCY OF SAM QUACKENBOSS BRINGS HIM INTO 

TROUBLE ; AND THE OLD FARMER DELIVERS A FREE LECTURE TO A 

SELECT AUDIENCE. 

The negro made his way along the dark passage with the unlit 
lantern in his hand until he heard the ripple of water close to his 
feet. It was absolutely dark in the cavern, and he could not have 
detected any unluminous object within six inches of his nose. He 
had proceeded without hesitation, however, throwing out his hand 
now and then to feel the wall on his left, and did not falter until 
his ear caught the low sound of running water. Then he paused, 
and squatting down remained perfectly silent for a few moments 
and listened. Hearing no sound he imitated the harsh chuckle of 
a screech owl, once, twice, thrice. It was a low utterance, but one 
calculated to penetrate a good way in the dead stillness of the cave. 
Almost at once the note was answered by one so similar that the 
two could scarcely be distinguished apart. Once, twice, thrice 
came the chuckle of the night bird, distinctly heard above the soft 
ripple of the stream, though at some distance away. The negro 
now rose and lit the lantern he held in his hand. By its rays the 
passage behind him could be discerned, a rough stony track ten 
or fifteen feet in height and of about equal breadth. This passage 
here joined another, from which the stream came. It was winter, 
and the water was cold, but the negro without hesitation took ofif 
his shoes, socks, and even his trousers, and leaving these on the dry 
bank began wading down the creek, for the stream was broad and 
deep enough to be so termed. Most of the way the water ran 
above his knees, but at intervals there were deeper places where it 
nearly reached his waist. Sometimes the arch overhead dipped 
down so low as to almost touch his head, and there was one long 
curved narrow passage through which the stream tossed and 
swirled in its anxiety to free itself. The negro held his lantern 


The Exuberant Fancy of Sam Qiiackenboss. 169 

high here, and found some difficulty in maintaining his footing. 
Making his way cautiously through this chute the rays of his 
lantern showed that the passage broadened at the lower end, and 
the stream hugged the right wall, leaving a strip of dry land to 
his left. He might have taken his way now along this strip of 
ground if he had chosen, but he remained in the water and pro- 
ceeded down the bed of the creek. He paused now, and extin- 
guished his lantern, and going a short distance farther a faint 
streak of daylight greeted him from the mouth of the cavern. It 
was but a dim ray, that did not aid him any in finding his way 
along the bed of the creek. He advanced now groping his course 
and with both arms extended as if he anticipated encountering 
some obstacle ahead. He turned a curve where the light was a 
little stronger, and immediately before him there stood a horse 
with a man atop of him. The horse started back in affright when 
the negro came suddenly upon him, but the rider patted him on the 
neck and soothed him in low tones. 

“ Ho t'ere. Sho, coot fellow. Don’t act te 'tarn fool,” said 
the rider caressingly. The negro in the meanwhile had seized the 
bridle and held the animal firmly. A little more soothing, and 
the man in the saddle turned the bridle rein over to the negro, who 
led the horse slowly back up stream, stopping now and then to 
calm and reassure him. When they had gotten beyond the last 
possible glimmer of daylight the negro halted in the middle of the 
stream and lit his lantern. They proceeded some distance further, 
the animal occasionally snorting and pressing close upon the heels 
of the African, as if relying upon him now for protection. When 
they reached the long narrow chute through which the water 
swirled and tossed they came to a second halt. 

“Has you got any liquor?” queried the African, as the cold 
waves splashed about his bare legs in midstream. 

The man on the horse took from his side pocket a flask about 
half full of whisky and handed it to his companion. The negro’s 
hand trembled as he grasped the flat bottle eagerly. “ I’m pooty 
nigh friz,” he remarked, and then turning the bottle up he poured 
most of its remaining contents down his throat. As he stood in 
the narrow way the lantern lit up objects about him very dis- 
tinctly. The horse that pressed noon him bore a marvelous re- 
semblance to Miss Sue Bascombe’s animal. Dandy Jim; the 
saddle was new and of good leather and the rider looked like an 
honest old farmer who cared little for appearances. 


The K. K. K. 


170 


“ You’ll hatter say your pra’rs now,” observed the negro, as he 
handed the nearly empty flask back to its owner. The old farmer 
seemed to have a peculiar way of sayinsr his prayers, for at this 
injunction he stretched himself at full length, lying flat on the ani- 
mal's back like a lizard on a log. Patting the horse kindly on the 
head to assure him that no harm should befall him the negro led 
the animal cautiously up the stream and through the perilous 
channel. At one or two spots he came to a stand, and gave notice 
to the old farmer to lie particularly flat before he ventured on. The 
old farmer fortunately was little of stature, for if he had been cor- 
pulent at some one of these places he must have been scraped from 
the saddle. “ Pray hard, pray hard,” the negro kept repeating, 
when he feared it would be a particularly tight shave for the horse 
and rider to squeeze themselves through some low narrow place. 
The old farmer did not utter a single exclamation on this most 
trying part of his journey. Now and then he groaned dismally, 
but he made no attempt to speak. The animal beneath him cleared 
its nostrils occasionally, but very softly, as if it feared a vigorous 
snort might bring down calamity on the entire expedition. 

“ Here we is,” cried Sam, when he had finally reached the point 
where they could leave the water and take to the dry land. 

“ Mine Cot,” exclaimed the old farmer, as he leaped to the 
ground and began hopping up and down to give vent to his ec- 
stasy. “ Ah, mine frient Sam, but it’s a proud man I am tis 
minit. Holy Moses, but tat vas a tarn tight squeeze. I 
vould not take such a ride agin, s’help me, for all te cattle in ter 
Marrowpone Hills.” 

“ You’d oughter had dis place in mind when you tuck de boss,” 
replied Sam. ” I was afeerd once or twice he wa’n’a gwy squedge 
through. Now he’s in here we’ll have to feed him light, or we’ll 
never git him out.” 

“ He’s a pig fine horse, dat’s a fact,” replied the old farmer, 
whose attention was now directed to the animal. 

“ Dat’s even down so,” answered Sam. “ But lem-me tell you, 
boss, sich bosses wa’n’t made to fit dis place. Whilst we keep 
dese here headquarters we’d oughter confine our attention mostly 
to ponies.” 

” Ah, but tis is a coot horse,” said the old farmer, taking the 
lantern from the negro and holding it up so he could examine the 
animal more closely. ” Two huntert tollar is sheep for him.” 

The negro got back into his clothes with as much expedition as 


The Exuberant Fancy of Sam Qiiackenboss. 171 

])ossible, for he was cold. .Then taking the bridle rein and lantern 
he led the horse farther back into the cave, the old farmer follow- 
ing. When they reached the opening that led into their private 
apartment the old gentleman crawled through this, the negro 
going onward with the horse. Presently he halted and tethered 
the animal at a broad level place which bore evidence of having 
been used as a feeding ground before. Going to some sacks that 
stood at a little distance off he brought about a half gallon of 
shelled oats in a small wooden tub, and then removed the saddle, 
bridle and blanket from the animal, preparatory to giving him a 
good rubbing down while he fed. 

Sam was a pr*etty good judge of horseflesh, and as he pressed 
the cloth lightly up and down the horse’s back and inspected his 
various good points with a critic’s eye, he indorsed without reser- 
vation the opinion the old farmer had expressed in regard to 
him. 

“ Dis here is a good horse, and no mistake,” said Sam to him- 
self, squatting down to wipe off the right foreleg of the animal. 
“ Hit’s de very best boss we’ve met up wid yit in our business,” 
he continued a moment later, still addressing himself. As he 
rubbed, and rubbed, there being no other human being nigh 
to whom he could communicate his ideas, he fell to rumi- 
nating aloud. ‘‘ Ef I owned jess sich a critter as dis,” 
said Sam to himself, “ and could ride him ’bout anywhars 
in de daytime, and had de money in my pocket wot de owner 
of sich a critter as dis ought to have, ef I didn’t cut a swell 
I’m de biggest liar dat ever opened his mouth. Lord, wouldn’t 
I cut a swell wid dis boss ef I could ride him ’bout any- 
whar’s in de daytime, and had de ready money for to support 
me and him? I’d go back down yander to Alabam’, I would, and 
I’d ride straight up to de house whar dat gal lives, and I’d holler 
loud enough for to wake a p’leeceman three squar’s off. ‘ Hello,’ 
I’d say; ‘who keeps house?’ I’d say. ‘ Is ev’body dead in dese 
parts? ’ I’d say. Wid dat you may bet your bottom dollar dey’d 
all come tumblin’ to de do’. Dat gal, Huldy, and all her little 
brudders and sisters, and her ma, and her ole granmammy, and 
de brindle dog wid one eye here dey’d all come. Den de ole gran- 
mammy she’d kinder shade her eyes wid one hand and look at 
me hard and say, ‘ Why, hi ! ain’t that Sam Quackenboss wet 
leff dese parts so sudden last Christmus was a year?’ Den I’d 
make my bow, and speak up to her jess as perlite as a dancin’ 


The K. K. K. 


172 

inarster, and say, ‘ No, marm, it ain’t.’ Den Hiildy's nia she'(i 
speak up and sa>% ‘ Go way funi here. ^ You tell me dat ain’t Sam 
Quackenboss, de runaway nigger wot lit out fum here last Christ- 
mus was a year?’ Den I’d ’spond to her, ‘ No, marm, it ain t. 
Dis here ain’t no runaway nigger, marm, I haves you understand. 
Dis here is Mr. Sam Quackenboss wot taken a little pledger trip 
last Christmus was a year, mum, same as any other gen’lemun, 
and wot has now come back fur to pay his respects to your darter 
Huldy, mum, same as any other gen’lemun.’ Wid dat I’d light 
off’n dis here hoss, and I’d ’vance to’ds de house wid my hat in 
my hand, a bowin’ and a smilin’ ” 

“ Yes, and you’d play hell too,” said a voice close to him, pro- 
ceeding evidently from some person who had overheard his so- 
liloquy. 

Without a word Mr. Sam Quackenboss dropped his cloth and 
brush, and rushing back into the cavern where he saw a dim figure 
standing, he grappled with the individual who had so suddenly 
interrupted him, and by a dexterous twist of his right leg round 
that of the unknown intruder, he speedily upset him. Having ac- 
complished this much in a jifify he placed his knees on the arms 
of his prostrate adversary, and gripping him firmly by the throat 
prepared to throttle him. The man underneath resisted violently, 
and it chanced in the struggle that a ray of light from the lantern 
fell on his face. Sam to his astonishment recognized the features 
of the friend from whom he had not long since parted in the guest 
chamber, and springing to his feet he cried out so loud as to be 
heard at some distance away : 

“ ’Fo’ God, ^Ir. Hardrider, I didn’t know dat was you.” 

The gentleman addressed had risen promptly, but he was obliged 
to consume some moments in the effort to recover his wind before 
he could reply. When his lungs had begun again to perform their 
natural function he answered indignantly : 

“ Next time you’d better wait until you find out something about 
a fellow before you try to kill him.” 

To which Sam answered excitedly: “In jineral, sar, dat’s my 
rule ; but you took me on surprise.” 

At this moment the old farmer, attracted by the disturbance, 
appeared on the scene with a lantern in his hand. “ Py Apraham 
and Moses,” he cried in a hoarse whisper, shaking his lantern at 
first one and then the other of the disputants, “ you vill rune ter 
pizness. You vill pring ter sheriff, and Cot knows vat all. You 


The Exuberant Fancy of Sam Quackenboss. 173 

vill land te whole posse of us in shail, you reckerless pad poys, 
you miserable tarn fools. Go pack to der place vere you pelongs. 
Go pofe of you pack right at vonct, or I vill discharge you, so help 
me. Dere now ; dere now ; go pack, goot fellows. Go straight 
pack at onct allretty, and stop your tarn foolishness, or you vill 
rune te pizness.” 

They obeyed the command, and when the three men were seated 
in the guest chamber, as their private apartment was called, the 
old gentleman delivered to his two juniors a fatherly lecture by 
which it is to be hoped they both profited. “ Pizness is pizness,” 
he said. “ Ven you go in a pizness learn te rules of tat pizness, 
and stick to te rules of tat pizness, and you vill prosper, and ter 

plessing of Cot vill pe upon you. If you follow te auctioneer 

pizness you must cry mit a loud voice so people vill hear you. 
Dat vay you prosper. If you follow te pizness of taking utter 
men’s horses and hiding dem in a cave, you must mind de rule 
to speak low or dere’ll be hell to pay. No matter vat your piz- 
ness, follow de rules of tat pizness, and coot will conie of it in de 

ent. Vatch all alonk de line, and make effry edge cut, so you vill 

hafif pig money pime-py. If you sell coots make ter coostomer 
pay cash and put dat cash in your pocket ; puy te coots on a credit 
and preak pefore pay day cumps. Dat vay you git large money. 
Follow te rules of your pizness, mine frients, and keep your eyes 
vide open all de time.” 

“ Speaking of keeping your eyes open,” said Mr. Hardrider, 
desiring to switch the old man off upon a more interesting topic, 
“ I saw a mighty fine horse about six miles this side of Nashville 
t’other day ; that’s what I saw.” 

“ Dot’s pizness,” said the old gentleman. 

“ Light sorrel,” said Mr. Hardrider, “ medium size, clean limbs, 
tail cut square, looked like a racer.” 

” Dot’s pizness,” repeated the old gentleman. 

“ Runs in a ten-acre lot with a high fence round it. Put in 
there I guess to let him play.” 

“ Dot’s pizness,” remarked the old gentleman for the third 
time. 

Mr. Hardrider having imparted this piece of intelligence lit his 
pipe and lapsed into silence. 

“ Now,” said the old gentleman, “ de kevestion is who vill git 
him oot of dot ten-acre lot. To my notion dot ’oss has had play 
sooficient in dot lot.” 


1 74 The K. K. K. 

Mr. Hardrider smoked on in silence. Sam likewise held his 
peace. 

“ I leal dot matter to you two shentlemen,” said the old man, 
‘‘ and I vants dot ’oss in de stable here soomtime to-morrow night. 
A vord to de vise is sooficient. 

The negro had produced a crumpled deck of cards from his 
pocket and now in dumb show challenged Mr. Hardrider for a 
game. The white outlaw faced him, and with the pipe still in his 
mouth motioned his companion to shuffle and deal. 

“ Pizness is pizness,” continued the old gentleman. “ My 
frient Kevackenparse, and my frient Artriter, you vill go to-mor- 
row and stop dot poptail ’oss from playin’ in dot ten-acre lot. 
Kevackenparse vill ” 

“ Call me Sam,” interrupted the negro. “ Ef you don’t leave 
off dat Kevackenparse I’ll ax de court to change my name.” 

“ Ver’ coot, ver’ coot,” said the old gentleman. I vill call you 
Sam, Alabam’ Sam, and let de Kevackenparse go to hell. My 
frient Sam vill git dot ’oss oot of dot lot and turn him over to my 
frient Artriter, who vill fetch him here and poot him in de stable 
vere he pelonks. Pime-py next veek ven de owner of dot ’oss git 
tired lookin’ for him ve vill send him and de big fellow vot shust 
come in off to de market. Pizness is pizness.” 

“ Clubs is trumps,” said Mr. Haxdrider. 

“ And it’s my lead,” said Sam. 

“ Ven dot ’oss is turned over to Artriter,” continued the old 
gentleman, “ mine frient Sam vill stay in de country and mix vid 
de peoples a vile. Ve need vitnesses for de court as veil as ’osses 
for de market.” 

“ Never mind about dat,” answered Sam as he trumped one of 
Mr. Hardrider’s cards. ” Let de witnesses go.” 

“ Ah, mine Cot,” said the old gentleman, “ I must not forgit de 
main pizness vot prought me to dis tarn Marrowpone coontry. 
Let de vitnesses go? No, no. Let de vitnesses go, and mine shile 
in shail? Mine Cot, no.” 

It may be explained here that the worthy old gentleman, Mr. 
Olof Ankerstrom, had first visited the Marrowbone region a few 
months before in the hope of picking up testimony that would be 
of service in the trial of his son. It was his ardent desire to prove 
an alibi for his son Johan, and thus demonstrate that he could not 
have been the perpetrator of the outrage at the Bascombe place. 
It was his purpose also to show in court at the proper time that 


The Exuberant Fanc}^ of Sam Quackenboss. 175 

Sandy Kinchen prior to the outrage had made criminating state- 
ments to his intimates, which would go far toward fastening upon 
him the responsibility for the terrible crime. It was with the 
view of hunting up testimony of this kind — and, it must be admit- 
ted, of manufacturing it if it could not be found ready made — that 
the worthy old gentleman had shouldered a peddler’s pack and 
knocked about for some weeks in the locality where the crime 
had been committed. While thus engaged it occurred to him to 
make expenses, and perhaps something more, by opening up a 
brisk horse-trading business with some confederates north of the 
Ohio River who were upon confidential terms with him. He 
found the negro Sam loafing about with no visible means of sup- 
port, and through him first undertook to suborn negro witnesses 
to testify in behalf of his son Johan at the coming trial. Find- 
ing him a willing accomplice he promoted him in recognition of 
his merit, and made him a member of the horse-stealing fraternity. 
The negro had on a former occasion, when it suited his purposes 
to absent himself a while from society, discovered the cave, and 
waded up the creek until he reached dry ground waere he could 
go into camp. He revealed to the old gentleman the existence 
of this safe hiding place, and upon a more thorough inspection 
they became convinced that a horse, as well as a man, could explore 
the depths of tne cavern. They found the niche, or side opening, 
which Mr. Hardrider, a promising young scoundreel, dubbed “ the 
guest chamber and here when not engaged in active business 
they ate, slept, played cards, drank whisky, and sought in various 
other commendable ways to kill time. 

The existence of the cave had of course been long known in the 
neighborhood, but no one prior to this time had been so adven- 
turous as to wade up the swift cold waters of the creek until dry 
footing could again be found ; and thus it was not suspected that 
a snug lurking place for robbers lay in the deep recesses of the hill 
that rose back of the opening. Now, schoolboys in summer will 
follow with lighted candles the labyrinths of the stream, and point 
you, if you be bold enough to accompany them, to the very spot 
where old Ankerstrom, the negro Sam, and Mr. Hardrider sat in 
frequent council, and planned raids upon the stables and horse 
pastures in the vicinity. Some stubborn people insist even yet 
that no horse of ordinary size could be led along the narrow 
channel through which the stream flows, but in reply it is only 
necessary for me to state that Sam Quackenboss did lead many 


The K. K. K. 


176 

horses to stable by this route, and tliis, I am sure, with rea- 
sonable people will be sufficient to silence all controversy on the 
subject. 

‘‘ Sam,” said the old gentleman after watching the game for 
some moments in silence, “ pass me dot plack pottle. Somehow 
I half dot lonezome feel to-night.” 

The request having been complied with, the old gentleman took 
an absent-minded potation and returned tl e bottle. “ Dem vit- 
nesses, dem vitnesses,” he said. “ Somehow or nutter, Sam, I 
haff dem vitnesses upon my mind to-night.” 

“ You needn’t;” replied the negro. “ I kin git you all de wit- 
nesses you want, but dat old lawyer won’t let ’em go ’pon de 
stand.” 

“ Ve vill fool him, Sam ; and make him pleive day swear 
trute.” 

“ You can’t fool dat old man. I’m afeerd to try it. He’ll twist 
honest testimony into all kind of shapes when he stands befo’ de 
jury, but he won’t tech no bogus testimony. Dat goes agin his 
stomach.” 

“ Pass me dot plack pottle agin, Sam,” said the old gentleman. 
Having taken a second drink more copious than the first he corked 
the bottle and sat it down beside him. The liquor seemed to 
depress his spirits, for he began soon to shake his head and hold 
forth in a melancholy way. 

“ Mine shile, mine poor shile in de shail. De tarn lawyer took 
my money, and vill not let de vitnesses speak vot vould set mine 
shile free. He haff my money, and vill not vork for my money ; 
dot is not pizness. Oh, mine Cot, dese lawyers, tese lawyers, tese 
tarn rascakly lawyers. Tis man Perlaffer, Sam, he is one tarn 
scer-roundrel.” 

“ You and him for dat,” replied the negro. I ain’t gwy fool 
wid him.” 

” He take my money to free my shile,” continued the old man, 
“but do he free my shile? Mine Cot, no. My money in his 
pocket, and mine shile in de shail ; dot is not pizness. Pime-py, 
he say to me, pime-py your shile be free as te pird dat fly, and fly, 
and light vere he tarn please. Pime-py, pime-py. Mine Cot, 
I haff vait, and vait, and pime-py haff not come allretty. De 
vitness for to hang your shile, he say, vill not pe on hand next 
time. Mine Cot, ven de next time come de tarn vitness he is on 
hand. Pass me te pottle, Sammy.” 


The Exuberant Faric}^ of Sam Quackenboss. i7'7 

Pass him the jug,” said INIr. Hardrider. '' Let him fill up 
and be done with it.” 

“ Dar’s de bottle right by you,” said Sam. “ Help yourself.” 

The old gentleman again raised the black bottle to his mouth 
and swallowed a liberal portion of its contents. When he had re- 
placed it by his side he eyed the card-players for a few moments in 
silence, then he accosted them with an air of half-tipsy grav- 
ity : 

“ Shentlemen, I vish to say something.” 

“ Say on,” replied Mr. Hardrider. “ Two and two, and my 
deal, Sam.” 

“ Shentlemen,” continued the old man, “ dere is a person in dis 
country vot makes himself too busy vid vot don’t concern him. 
His name is — ah — his name is — ah — Perryerson. Vot you 
call ? ” 

” Pearson,” said Sam. Ran Pearson, dey calls him. He got 
a pooty good ’oss, but de stable do’ is double locked, and dar’s a 
bull dog dat prowls round de place constant. I trumps dat ace, 
sho.” 

“ Tam te ’oss, and te pull tog, and te ace,” said the old gentle- 
man. 

“Wot den?” inquired Sam. 

“ Dis man — vot you call? — Perryerson, he too tarn busy vid vat 
don’t concern him. He haff de vitnesses at coort de last time, he 
vill haff dem dere de next time. My lawyer say no, I say yes. 
Py te plood of te prophets, I say yes. He vill haff te vitnesses on 
hand, dis man Perryerson. Mark dat, Sammy. Mark dat, Artri- 
ter. Tis man vill fetch vitnesses to de coort to hang mine shile. 
He is a tarn scer-roundrel.” 

“ Meb-be so,” replied Sam. . 

“ I vish he vos dead,” said the old gentleman. 

“ Amen,” cried Mr. Hardrider. 

“ Shentlemen,” continued the old man, regarding the two 
gamblers more narrowly than might have been expected from one 
in his seemingly inebriated condition, “ if dis man Perryerson 
vould mind his own pizness my shile vould pe free terreckerly. 
Tink of dat.” 

The two men played on in silence. 

“ If he vos tead,” the old gentleman went on, “ mine poor shile 
vould pe free terreckerly. Mine shile, mine shile, he vould pe 
free as te 'appy pird.” 

i2 


178 


The K. K. K. 


“ Won’t do,” said Mr. Hardrider. I'm in the horse-trading 
business.” 

“ Fve tried my hand at fust one thing and den anudder,” said 
Sam, “ but I never has kilt anybody yit.” 

‘‘ Dot is right,” said the old gentleman. “ Stick to dat, mine 
frients, and you vill pe angels pime-py, mebbe.” 

As it was now growing late the old gentleman laid himself down 
upon a blanket spread a little way off from the fire and fell asleep. 
A clear conscience and good digestion are excellent aids to 
slumber, and it is to be presumed the old gentleman possessed both 
of these, for he soon began to snore vigorously. 

Mr. Hardrider and the negro played on with varying luck until 
past midnight. Sometimes they were intent upon the game, some- 
times they allowed themselves to be beguiled into conversation on 
miscellaneous topics. They arranged the details of the following 
day’s expedition by which it was hoped to bring the slim race horse 
to comfortable quarters in the cavern, where he might keep com- 
pany with Dandy Jim. They touched once or twice on the subject 
which the old gentleman had last introduced, but this in very low 
tones for fear his snoring might be simulated. When they at last 
abandoned the game the negro was a few dollars ahead, and Mr. 
Hardrider a little worse off pecuniarily than when they began to 
finger the cards. He was naturally light-hearted, though, and it 
would have taken a very heavy and persistent run of ill luck to 
depress him. 

“ Damn the difference,” he said to Sam before retiring. I 
just play anyhow for the excitement of the thing.” 

‘‘ Me too,” replied Sam, tying the evening’s winnings up care- 
fully in a rag. 

‘‘ I never tried life in a cave until I was sent down here to help 
out the old man,” said Mr. Hardrider, “ and I find it lonesome as 
the devil. I’ve read ‘ Jack Sheppard ’ through three times in the 
last week. If I stay here much longer I’m going to get me up a 
library.” 

“ Dat’s past me,” replied the negro ; “ I can’t read.” 

“ I ain’t even allowed to sing,” continued Mr. Hardrider, “ for 
fear the sheriff will come in to listen. All I can do for amusement 
is to play cards, and som.ehow I have hard luck at that. If I play 
with you you make a pretty good hole in my pile ; if I play with 
the old man he takes it all.” 

“ Luck will change, luck will change,” answered Sam, striving 
to comfort his friend. 


The Exuberant of San"* Ouackenboss. 

Oh, damn the odds,” said Mr. Hardrider cheerfully. “ It 
would all g-o in a lifetime anyway. Old Vanderbilt had to leave 
the world, and didn’t take a dollar with him. Rain, shine, good 
luck, bad luck — ’twill all go in a lifetime, Sam.” 

With this cheerful reflection the young horse-trader untied his 
shoes and laid down to rest. Sam followed his example, stretch- 
ing himself at length on a different pallet. They too must have 
been favored with sound digestion and clear consciences, for soon 
they were wrapt in deep sleep, and nothing disturbed the silence 
of the cavern but the snoring of the old man and the occasional 
stamping of Dandy Jim as he pined in his rather lonely stable. 


j 


ibo 


Ine K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE OLD FARMER ATTENDS A BUSINESS MEETING OF THE K. K. K., 
AND HEARS SOMETHING NOT TO HIS ADVANTAGE. 

The fox that hid in the cedars on Dead Man’s Knob was dis- 
turbed by another gathering of human creatures at that secluded 
spot. Again the Grand Cyclops donned his ghostly robe ; again 
some applicant for admission into the klan stood before him and 
the mummery of initiation was gone through with. But the klan 
had business of more importance than the mere admission of new 
members into a society which was already sufficiently large to ac- 
complish the purpose for which it had been organized. To-night 
the grave question to be discussed and decided was whether the 
time had arrived when the midnight murderer of a good old 
woman in their midst should be taken by force or stratagem from 
the authorities and held to account for his monstrous crime. 
Nearly a year had elapsed since the flames from the burning Bas- 
combe home lit up the sky and the neighborhood about the place. 
A full year would have elapsed before the brute who committed 
a cruel and causeless murder there couid be arraigned to answer 
for his deed. More than this, after three times visiting their 
county seat to testify against him the witnesses familiar with the 
facts must now be dragged to another county town — a full day’s 
journey from their homes — before they could be heard to tell their 
plain tale in court. That there should be indignation among the 
good folk of the Marrowbone Hills was natural. That they 
should fail to understand why the authorities proceeded at a snail’s 
pace to bring a heartless scoundrel to settlement, and apparently 
befriended him in his effort to shirk investigation, was natural. 
The blood of old Granny Bascombe cried aloud from the stained 
earth for vengeance, and good men and women fretted over the 
fact that it had cried so long in vain. Good men and women 
fretted over the fact till wrath and indignation took possession of 
the community, and many there were who censured the secret or- 


The Old Farmer at a Meeting of the K. K. K. i8i 

ganization that had been instrumental in snatching a murderer 
from the hands of those who would have visited swift punishment 
upon him and placing him in a situation where, they were con- 
vinced, not even tardy justice would ever reach him. That such 
an organization existed in the community was well understood, 
though the Individuals that composed it, its meeting place, and 
even its objects and purposes were altogether conjectural. 

Again the circle was formed on Dead Man’s Knob, and when a 
few novitiates had been duly installed members, the tall Grand 
Cyclops announced that the Ulema, or court of the order, would 
convene. The three judges gravely took their seats on the flat 
stone against the bluff and listened to arguments and appeals for 
action in the case of the murderer, Johan Ankerstrom, alias 
Cross-eyed Jack. 

IMany members addressed the court, some in a rambling way, 
some much to the point. All the speakers without exception urged 
that something must be done. Even those who at the last meeting 
had advised against interference with the public authorities now 
admitted that the limit of patience had been passed, and that 
if the murderer could be wrested from the jail where he lay he 
should be brought at once before the klan for trial. 

The Grand Cyclops, whose appropriate figure and grave deport- 
ment had made him the head of the order, delivered on this occa- 
sion a few impressive remarks. The objects of the order, he re- 
minded the august tribunal before him, were threefold. First, by 
promptly taking charge of persons suspected of grave crimes to 
prevent mob law, which from excitement and lack of method often 
punished the innocent, and which tended to encourage rather than 
check those prone to disorderly acts. Secondly, to turn these sus- 
pected persons when arrested promptly over to the authorities, and 
to aid the authorities in bringing them to speedy hearing so that 
justice in each case might be promptly and openly done. Thirdly, 
where the authorities failed, after reasonable time had been al- 
lowed to bring any offender to open trial, then the klan should re- 
sume its control over such offender and deal with him as right 
and justice might demand. These objects, said the Grand Cyclops, 
addressing the Dreadful Ulema, were all such as law-abiding citi- 
zens could not fail to approve of. Rash and furious mob law, 
striking blindly after a grave crime had been committed, could not 
be justified by any right-thinking persons. In a community where 
there were court-houses and courts, the opportunity to deal with 


i 82 


The K. K. K. 


flagrant offenders should always be given the public authorities 
before outsiders would be justified in interfering. But crime must 
be punished, society must be protected, old women and young girls 
must be allowed to retire to rest at night without fear of molesta- 
tion. If the proper authorities could not afford the necessary pro- 
tection, good citizens must band together to aid the authorities ; 
and if aid was not sufficient to attain the desired end then good cit- 
izens must assume the entire responsibility, and by punishing 
guilty persons protect themselves and their neighbors from further 
outrages. The time had now come, the Grand Cyclops maintained 
when the klan having relied on the law long enough should re- 
sume charge of this man, Ankerstrom, and administer justice to 
him. He had not given the poor old woman whom he roused at 
midnight time to say her prayers before he murdered her. The 
klan should not follow such a ruthless example as that, but the 
good people of the vicinity should be given to understand that if 
there was not strength enough in the courts to punish such mon- 
strous crimes, there was strength enough in a voluntary society, 
organized for the purpose of maintaining peace and good order in 
the community. It was preposterous to say time enough had not 
been allowed for the courts to make a thorough investigation of 
the grave case before them. The speaker knew nothing of the 
technicalities of the law, but taking a common-sense view of the 
matter he would say that where monstrous crimes were committed 
prompt trial and punishment must follow, or the whole effect of 
visiting the consequences of crime on the offender would be lost. 
The law as now administered was certainly a failure. Maybe it 
was nobody’s fault, but the fact was the law was a failure, and the 
question remained as to whether there was any power anywhere 
to punish crime. 

The Grand Cyclops, a plain young farmer, undoubtedly voiced 
the sentiment of those present when he urged that speedy action be 
taken in the Ankerstrom case, and that the courts should be no 
longer relied on to deal with the murderer. Others followed along 
the same line, and Teddy McIntosh spoke vehemently as usual. 

“ Why, look a here,” Teddy argued, “ are we ever going to do 
anything about this business or not? If we are it’s time we were 
about it ; if we ain’t let’s disband and go home. What have we 
done since we organized this klan to right things about here? 
What have we done, most Dreadful Ulema, what have we done? 
We’ve trapesed around over the country in our shirt tails, so to 


The Old Farmer at a Meeting of the K. K. K. 183 

speak, and skeered a few niggers out of their wits, but have we put 
a stop to the villainy that’s going on around us ? When was there 
ever such a state of affairs in the Marrowbone Hills as there is 
right now? A good horse stolen on court day right under the 
nose of the judge, and Billy Metcalf’s fine race horse took out of 
his lot one night last week. This together with a whole lot of 
other devilment not worth while to name. What are we going to 
do about it? Why, if it please the Dreadful Ulema, the lawyers 
and the judges in the court-house couldn’t dilly-dally worse than 
we’ve done. This is putting it pretty strong I know, but I leave it 
to all the members of this klan if I ain’t right? We banked a 
heap on mystery when we first organized. This Brotherhood was 
• to be so secret, and keep things so dark, that everybody around 
would stand in awe, and folks would only know there was such 
a society as ours when they found the mighty things we’d done. 
Well, sirs, now how does the matter stand? Which side has got 
the mystery with it, if you come to mystery ? A horse took in the 
broad open daytime, not two hundred yards from the court-house, 
with court in session and a thousand folks in town. Who took 
that horse, and where was he carried to? Smuggled out of the 
country by some sort of hocus pocus, and the smartest man in the 
Marrowbone Hills couldn’t say when or how. They waylaid the 
roads, and the horses hadn’t left by any road. They sent off tele- 
grams, and the horse hadn’t been seen at any of the places where 
a thief would have been likely to take him. So it is with Billy 
Metcalf’s race nag. We’ve scoured the country up and down, far 
and wide, and if that critter is on top of the ground we can’t find 
him. One thing is certain, though. One thing is certain. The 
scamps that are putting up jobs like this ain’t much afraid of the 
law. They ain’t much afraid of any kind of law. Court-house 
law, and K. K. K. law, they snap their fingers at all of it. It’s time 
somebody was hung, I tell you. It’s time somebody’s neck was 
pulled. If we get the right man, amen ; if we get the wrong man, 
better than nobody at all. Why, look a here. I slept last night in 
my stable loft. What for? Because I didn’t want my saddle 
horse took, that’s why. He’s a good horse ; sire. Autocrat ; grand 
sire, imported Imp ; got a pedigree long as my arm, and I couldn’t 
afford to have him took. That’s the reason I slept in my stable 
loft with a shotgun for company. I’ll tell you another thing too. 
If a horse thief had come about my stable neither them fellows at 
the court-house nor this here Dreadful Ulema would have been 


The K. K. K. 


184 

bothered with his case. Not bothered at all, gentlemen ; not 
bothered at all, I give you my word. Look at old Granny Bas- 
combe’s case too, will you? Good old woman, kind-hearted old 
woman, Christian woman. Knocked in the head like a dog, and 
everybody knows who killed her. How long has it been since she 
was knocked in the head, and everybody knowin’ who killed her ? 
Close on to a year. What’s been done about it? Not a thing in 
the world. First a whole lot of witnesses, young and old, men and 
women, sick folks and well folks, had to go before the grand jury. 
So far, so good. Next the same crowd, young and old, men and 
women, sick and well, had to march back to court to tend the trial. 
They laid the case over to next term. Too much excitement, they 
said. Oh yes, too much excitement. Cross-eyed Jack couldn’t 
be tried, while excitement was up ; not by no means. So they laid 
the case over, and one more time everybody, young and old, men 
and women, sick and well, had to trapes to town to tend court. 
What then? Was they allowed to tell their tales and git back to 
their homts ? Oh no, by no means. Excitement being still up, the 
case must be laid over again, and not only so but set for trial next 
time in another far-away county where it’ll be hard to get the wit- 
nesses to tend. Nobody in all this here county fit’n’ to set on the 
case of Cross-eyed Jack. Fie must be tried in a dead calm, and 
before strangers, if his lawyer ever makes up his mind to have a 
trial at all, which ain’t likely. Well, I don’t know how it is with 
this here Dreadful Ulema, and the balance of you fellows, but I’m 
tired. Some’pn’ ought to be done, and I’ll just be dad burned, 
ladies and gentlemen, if I haven’t got to the p’int where I’m ready 
to say somep’n’s got to be done. This here klan was got up to 
help out the courts, and it looks like some other kind of a klan will 
have to be got up to help out this here klan, and this here Dreadful 
Ulema. Nobody in all this here county good enough to try Cross- 
eyed Jack; oh no, nobody at all. And this here klan, and this 
here Dreadful Ulema, they ain’t ready to take up the case of Cross- 
eyed Jack as yet. Oh no, we must wait, wait, wait. Cross-eyed 
Jack is a gentleman of such quality that he can only be tried in a 
dead calm, and before strangers, and when he’s ready. We’ve 
waited a year, but that don’t matter. We must wait another year, 
and if that ain’t sufficient we must wait his convenience. Well, I 
for one am tired! of waiting, and I’m ready to take up tlie case right 
here, right now. I want to see the case of Cross-eyed Jack, alias 
Dutch Ankers, alias all-round infernal scoundrel, go off the docket. 


The Old Farmer at a Meeting of the K. K. K. 185 

I want to give him a free pass to another world right away. Fd 
rather send him off by the rope route, but if that can’t be done then 
by the pistol route, and if we can’t fix it any other way I’m willing 
to hire the jail cook to pizen him. I tell you I mean business about 
this thing. It’s come to the pass in this country that rascals don’t 
fear the law, and honest folks don’t depend on the law, and that’s 
a bad state of affairs. It’s a bad state of affairs, I tell you, and 
some’pn’ ought to be done about it, and done quick.” 

No stenographer was present to take down the scattering re- 
marks of McIntosh, but the above will give a pretty accurate idea 
of what he said and how he said it. On the whole he voiced the 
sentiment of his brother members, though many of them would 
have expressed themselves in a different way. The Ulema, or 
high court of the order, however, still operated as a check upon the 
more impulsive members of the clan. Pearson, after listening 
calmly to all that had been said, declared gravely that while the 
procrastinating methods of the law were exasperating, the time had 
not yet arrived when violent interference with its process would be 
justifiable. In the opinion of himself and the two other members 
who constituted the judicial tribunal of the order, to take a man by 
force from the custody of the civil authorities, and deal with him 
for his transgression, was a very serious step that would only be 
justifiable in an extreme case. The speaker did not deny that per- 
haps it would have been better not to have delivered Ankerstrom 
to the custody of the law. The accidental presence of the sheriff 
partly occasioned this, and the speaker himself had favored it at the 
time, but possibly in the case of so flagrant an offender it might 
have been better if the klan had dealt with him as he deserved. 
Now, however, the situation was changed, and no violent action 
should be taken on the part of the order as long as there was hope 
that justice would be administered through the courts. Especially 
at this time, Pearson insisted, it would be unwise to interfere be- 
cause there was every assurance that the accused after long delay 
would be forced to trial at the next term. The State’s attorney had 
avowed that there was no legal quibble by which a hearing could 
be postponed beyond the next term, and the judge had practically 
so announced from the bench when the change of venue was 
granted. Therefore the duty of the brotherhood was to exert 
every effort and have all the witnesses present when the court as- 
sembled. When the case was heard in open court the facts on 
both sides would be brought out, and the members of the Uleinaj 


i86 


The K. K. K. 


being present, could then for themselves determine whether the 
accused had any sort of defense to the grave charge against him. 
If he had none then no technicalities of the law would be per- 
mitted to shield him from punishment or to put off much longer 
the hour when he must pay the penalty of his crime. Under the 
circumstances the order must wait patiently and give the law one 
more chance. If there was interference now it would be said 
that the court was just about to dispose of the case when the 
mob took the matter out of its hands. 

“ What if there’s another postponement instead of a trial ? ” 
asked a member of the brotherhood when Pearson had an- 
nounced his decision. 

“We will then meet and determine what is our duty,” was the 
calm response. 

When this matter was disposed of the Ulema adjourned and 
a discussion followed upon the mysterious disappearance of 
horses from the community, which had become of frequent occur- 
rence lately. The puzzling thing about these robberies was that 
no man could tell to what part of the country the animals were 
taken, or how they were gotten without detection out of the 
neighborhood where they were known. None but good animals 
were taken, and the thieves seemed to be operating upon a prear- 
ranged plan that baffled the authorities, and even the members of 
the order. Upon the subject of these depredations Pearson ex- 
pressed his opinion. 

“ It is quite evident,” he said, “ that this is not the work of 
negroes ; at least that negroes are not planning and managing this 
systematic scheme by which our best horses are being secretly 
run out of the country. It is evident also that this is not the 
work of common clumsy thieves. So far we have made little 
progress toward discovering the perpetrators of these frequent 
crimes, but we have one clue that followed up may lead to impor- 
tant disclosures. At our last meeting several members spoke of 
the presence of an old jewelry peddler in this locality whose con- 
duct was thought to be suspicious. It was an old white man 
claiming to be a book agent that stole Templeton’s horse from 
Major Habersham’s stable. He seems to have had a negro part- 
ner, but it was the old white man that put up the job. It was an 
old white man claiming to be a farmer that stole Miss Sue Bas- 
combe’s horse at the last term of the court. These three indi- 
viduals were all foreigners, all getting along in years, all slick 


The Old Farmer at a Meeting of the K. K. K. 187 

scoundrels, and I am convinced they were all one and the same 
person. The thing to do is to catch the old scoundrel, who has 
many disguises, and who seems to be in hiding round here some- 
where.” 

“ And the next thing to do is to hang him to a limb,” inter- 
rupted Teddy McIntosh. 

“ If we catch him,” answered Templeton, “ I will agree with 
you that he should first be brought before the klan and his sub- 
sequent disposition then determined.” 

“ No court-house law for him,” said McIntosh. 

We’ll deal with him promptly; I promise you that,” was the 
reply. “ But the first thing to do is to catch him. Now, Tm con- 
vinced this gang of scoundrels has a regular hiding place some- 
where in the Marrowbone Hills, and that this hiding place is 
sufficient in size to secrete both horses and thieves after a robbery 
has been committed. They keep the horses hidden here until 
we have quit searching for them, and then they slip them off 
quietly to some distant market and sell them. This old jewelry 
peddler who plays farmer and Bible agent, and who is sharp 
enough to fool Lee Templeton and Uncle Davy, is the head of the 
gang, and by keeping a sharp lookout we can catch him. Let 
every member then keep his eyes and ears open, and let the Grand 
Cyclops appoint some of our men to watch the roads every night. 
A dozen good men can watch almost as many different roads, and 
we can take it turn about discharging this duty.” 

“ I say,” remarked Mr. Teddy McIntosh, rising to address the 
assemblage, “ if I lay hands on this here old jewelry peddler, 
Bible agent and farmer, there’ll be no courts for him, and no 
Dreadful Ulema, neither. I’ll save all that trouble, I will.” 

“ No,” replied Pearson, you must not do anything against the 
rules of the order. If you catch him bring him to us, and we’ll 
deal with him promptly. Have no fear of that.” 

“ No more courts? ” asked Teddy dubiously. 

“ Bring him before the klan ; an hour or two will be all the 
time needed to look into his case. If his guilt is clear, and the 
klan says so, we’ll make an example of him. Desperate diseases 
require desperate remedies.” 

“ That’s the talk,” replied Mr. McIntosh. “ Proceed on that 
line, and we’ll stick to you.” 

The members of the K. K. K. quietly dispersed, each going his 
separate way, and the stillness of night again reigned on Dead 


The K. K. K. 


i88 

Plan’s Knob. When all had dispersed, and a half hour had 
passed without sign or sound from any creature, a human being 
crawled from the dense thicket of cedars and stepping softly 
across the open space took his seat on the flat stone where the 
members of the Ulema had sat. He was of diminutive stature 
and alert in his movements, though even in the misty starlight 
gray hair could be seen straggling from beneath his close black 
cap. He sat on the stone a while shaking his head and gesticu- 
lating with his hands as he muttered in an undertone to him- 
self. 

“Von hour, hah? Von hour vill be sufficient, hah? Mep-pe 
so, mep-pe so. Ven dey gits te ole man dey vill make short vork 
vid him. Hah, yes, yes, yes ; no toubt. Ven dey gits him, ven 
dey gits him.” 

He gesticulated a few moments in silence, shaking his head 
vehemently the while. 

“ Tat m-an Perryerson is te pig tog. Te oders is leetle bups, 
shust leetle bups. Ven Perryerson go, te whole tarn pizness go. 
Shust von hour for te ole man — ven dey gits him. Veil, veil; 
veil, veil. Mep-pe pime-py terreckerly dey vill git him.” 

There came a slight disturbance, perhaps from some night 
prowling animal, and the old man slipped softly away from the 
stone and was gone. His retreating footsteps gave back no 
sound as he picked his way in the darkness down the steep side of 
Dead Man’s Knob. 


An Exciting Adventure. 


189 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE EXCITING ADVENTURE OF SAM QUACKENBOSS AND MR. HARD- 
RIDER WITH TWO HOBGOBLINS ON THE HIGHWAY. 

Sam Quackenboss curried the race horse down, while Mr. 
Hardrider sat on the ground near by nursing his knees and re- 
garding the labor of the African with satisfaction. 

“ Touch him up a little under his flank,” said Mr. Hardrider. 

“Dat’s a ticklish place,” answered Sam. “ Dis here boss is high- 
mettled. I lay he kin outrun a skeered deer, and I know he kin 
kick high, bekase he done flung his legs a time or two at me. I 
dunno how Pm gwy keep company wid you to-night nohow. De 
yudder boss is a saddler ; holds his head high and moves stiddy. 
Dis here nag have got three pooty good gaits, and dat’s all. He 
kin walk springy, he kin lope kinder like a rabbit, and he kin run 
like hell. Dat’s him.” 

“ ril make him go all three of his gaits to-night,” said Mr. 
Hardrider, “ so put him in good trim.” 

“Ain’t I doin’ it?” answered Sam. “But don’t you lope oflF 
and leave me to-night. I axes dat much of you right now. De 
ole man he kinder got me out’n my line, but still I’m gwy ’bey 
orders. My line is to curry and feed and git pervisions by fust 
one play and then anoder. I kin open a stable do’, and lead a 
boss out too. Dat’s in my line. And I kin climb up on de boss 
and ride him to dis here place, and tole him up de creek ef he’s a 
notion to hang back. All dat I kin do. Rubbin’ and curryin’ is 
in my line. Short rides is in my line. Wadin’ de creek is in my 
line. But dese here all-night trips astraddle of a lively boss, dat 
ain’t in my line. Dat ain’t in my line, mind you, Mr. Hardrider, 
but de ole man say so, and I’m gwine.” 

“ The old man’s badly rattled,” said the white robber. “ I 
never seen him in such a fix as he was last night.” 

“ Dis mornin’ you better say. ’Twa’n’t lackin’ much of day, I 
tell you, when he come in. He was dead tired too, like he been 


The K. K. K. 


190 

runnin’ most of de way from somewhars. He never even took 
off his breeches when he wade de creek, but come in de guest 
chamber wet as a rat and all in a fume. He shuck me, he did, 
and say, ‘ Vake up, vake up, Sammy, tere’s hell to pay.’ I done 
heerd him a cornin’, so I riz, and sot up, and ax him for to ’splain 
hisself. He flourish wid his hands like he always do, and say, 
‘ Git te tarn ’osses retty, and move vid tern from tis tarn ole in te 
ground.’ I say, ‘ When ? Right now ? ’ He stamp his foot and 
say, ‘ To-night, to-night, you tarn fool. Tell Artriter. You and 
him git retty. Ve must move ; ve can not vait.’ I say, ‘ What’s 
up?’ He say, ‘ Pime-py I tell you. You and Artriter git retty 
to take avay te tarn ’osses.’ Wid dat he tumble down on his pal- 
let and cuss a while and fidget a while, and den he fall fast 
asleep ; and he ain’t gwy wake up till I gits breakfast and shakes 
him.” 

“ Well,” muttered Mr. Hardrider, “ I don’t know what’s up, 
but I know I’m damned glad to get orders to move. I’ve lived in 
here so long I feel like a mole. I blink like an owl when daylight 
strikes me. I shouldn’t wonder if we had fun to-night, Sam, and 
I hope we will. Anything for excitement. Maybe I’ll pass in 
my checks, and have done with this here cross-grained world be- 
fore the stars quit shining to-night, but damn the odds. Sooner 
or later I’ve got to go, and so it don’t matter much when. Give 
me excitement while I live, that’s my motto, Sam.” 

S’pos’n’ dey nabs us? ” said the negro. 

Mr. Hardrider rose to his feet and slapped himself upon the 
breast. “ Here’s a gentleman they’ll never nab,” he remarked to 
Sam. 

“ Me nuther, den,” replied Sam. “ But look a here, Mr. Hard- 
rider, don’t you never leave me. You rides de race horse, mind 
you, and I rides de saddler. Whatsomever comes don’t you leave 
me.” 

“ Wouldn’t that be ungentlemanly'? ” inquired the gallant high- 
wayman. 

“ Yas, sir, ’twould.” 

“ If it comes to a tussle wouldn’t there be more excitement in 
staying than running away ? ” 

“ I suppose dar would.” 

“ Then count on my staying by you,” replied the gallant high- 
wayman. “ I’m not the man to do an ungentlemanly act, and I 
long for excitement.” 


An Excitihg Adventure. 191 

The most exciting thing immediately ahead was breakfast, and 
to this the two cave dwellers were soon applying themselves with 
relish. Sam was a good commissary, and when he had the whole 
country to fall back on, and as a rule nothing to pay, it is hardly 
necessary to inform the reader that he kept a well-stocked table. 
Fried chicken, potatoes, hot corn bread, and coffee are ever wel- 
come to the hungry soul, and Mr. Hardrider and Sam did ample 
justice to these satisfying edibles. When they had finished, Sam, 
being a prudent housekeeper, raked up the chicken feathers and 
consumed them in tlT«e fire. “No use to leave no signs,” he said 
to his companion. “ When we all gits away from here what 
chickens we hain’t et up Fm gwy turn loose in de woods. Fm 
gwy scrape dis here guest chamber so clean that a pusson s’archin’ 
round atter we done gone would think somebody had got up a 
dance in here. Dar is always folks, you know, gwine way back 
under de ground, and fiddlin’, and gittin’ up dances.” 

“ Next time I dance, please God,” said Mr. Hardrider, “ I hope 
to dance on a floor with a fine chandelier overhead, and plenty of 
fresh air coming in at the windows. Don’t talk to me about go- 
ing away back under the ground and lighting a candle to dance 

“ Still dey is folks what does dat,” said Sam, “ and Fm gwy 
fix things in here so if anybody else finds de place they’ll think 
picnickers been round. Dey never will s’picion dat horse-traders 
been usin’ dis for dar headquarters. I can’t clean up all de 
signs and smooth over all de ground so as to make like nobody 
been in here ; but I km fix it so as to make like picnickers been in 
here. I kin clear out all de horse-tradin’ signs, and Fm gwy 
do it.” 

The old gentleman slept well. He did not stir until nearly mid- 
day, and would not have roused then if Sam had not given him a 
vigorous shake and told him breakfast was ready. He rose 
briskly at this and gulped down his coffee and bolted his food 
as if he had fasted for many hours. When he was through he 
entered at once upon the subject uppermost in his mind. 

“ Git retty, Sammy, git retty. You and Artriter must git avay. 
Ah, mine Cot, yes, yes, ve can stay no lonker. Ve must leave te 
tarn place. Veil you gone I go too. Pe sure, pe sure, I vill not 
stay by mineself. Shust a little vile, fat’s all.” 

“ What’s to pay? ” inquired Mr. Hardrider. 

“ Te tevihs to pay, tat’s all,” answered the old gentleman. 


192 


The K. K. K. 


“ Vat to pay, you say? Veil, I tells you. Last night I vent to te 
meetin’ uff te Kukerklux.” 

“ Done which ? inquired Mr. Hardrider, in some surprise. 

“ Vent to te meetin’ uff te Kukerklux. I haff shined te pand 
vot dey call te Kukerlux, and last night I vent to te meetin’. ^ I 
VOS dere allretty befo’ te oders, and stayed till te oders left, so I fe 
cot te whole tarn thing. Te Kukerklux tomfoolery doin’s I kin tell 
it all to you, s’help me, but I haff not time. I haff time to tell you 
vone things, and I will tell you tat. Listen to me speak, for meppe 
you voulcl like to hear my vorts. Vot I zay ten? I zay tis, and 
you mind my vords, Artriter ; you mind my vords, Sam Kervack- 
enparse.” 

‘‘ Don’t call me dat,” remonstrated Sam. “ You hurts my feel- 
ings. 

‘‘ Ver’ coot, ver’ coot ten ; I vill not hurt your veelings. I vill 
tell te tale, and hurt no shentleman’s veelings. I vill speak plain 
so any tarn fool can understand. I vill speak plain, hah. Veil 
den last night, you understand, I vent to te meetin’ of te tarn Ku- 
kerlux, vat you call. I vent early so to git a coot place. I hid 
in te pushes. I lay me flat same as von tarn ground skeverrel on 
te fence rail, hah. Pime-py terreckerly here tey come ; vone, two, 
teventy, fivty. Te shentleman, te coot man vot you call Perryer- 
son, he te pig tog. Te palance is little blips, shust leetle blips. 
Tey park, and park, but it signify noting. Te shentleman, te 
coot man Perryerson, he up and tell dem somedings. He zay, te 
coot man do, dat dere is von ole man in tese parts vat need to be 
enkevired uff. Tis ole man sell Piples, and steal ’osses ; tat’s me. 
Tis ole man vot he speak uff likewise tress like te farmer, and 
steal ’osses; tat’s me. Ven dey gits te ole man vot is me tey vill 
srving him to te limb in vone hour; tat’s vat tey say. No courts 
for te ole man; no shury fur him. No lawyer fur to plead his 
case. Ven they gits him, mind you, he srvings like a tog ; 
srvings like a tarn tog; ven tey gits him. Shust so, shust so. 
Veil, veil, no matter fur tat. Te coot man Perryerson likewise 
zay tere is von tani nigger vot keep company vid te ole man. 
Ven tey gits tis nigger vot vill tey do to him? Tey vill skint him 
alive, so te coot man Perryerson zay.” 

“ Name o’ de Lord! ” ejaculated Sam. 

“ Te name o’ te Lord vill not safe te nigger ven tey gits him, 
and te coot man Perryerson zay he vill haff tat nigger tead ur 
alife. He vant tat nigger uxspccial, te coot man Perryerson do. 


193 


An Exciting Adventure. 

Ah, he is a coot man, he is a ferry coot man, tis Perryerson shen- 
tlemun. Vere is te plack pottle? I vill trink to his belt. I vill, 
s’help me.” 

They passed the black bottle to the old gentleman and he raised 
it to his mouth. “ May he liff long and perrosper, tis coot man 
Perryerson,” he said before refreshing himself. 

“ May he go to the devil this week,” interrupted Mr. Hard- 
rider. 

Amen to dat,” proclaimed Sam. 

The old gentleman shook his head. “ He is a coot man, tis 
Perryerson. But listen vat furder he zay. He zay tey haf¥ vatch 
at te wrong time. Tey vatch too kervick. Te ole man vot tey 
vill hang to te limb, and te tarn nigger vat tey vill skint alife, and 
te Oder vite man vot is vuss tan all ” 

“ Did they name me ? ” inquired Mr. Hardrider, with some 
anxiety in his tone. 

Tey name no names,” replied the old gentleman. “ But tey 
say te robbers keep ’osses hid someveres for von veek, two veek, 
till te beoble stop hiking; ten tey run te ’osses avay, clean avay 
from te coontry. Tat vat tey zay. And tey zay tey vill bekin 
right avay and Vatch all te roads all te time, so tat no man git 
avay vid a ’oss. Tey zay tey vill vind te ten uf te robbers, vich 
tey know to pe in te Marrowpone Tils. Tey vill vatch all te roads 
all te time. Tey vill hang to te tree te ole man vot sell Piples ; tey 
vill skint te tarn nigger alife ; and vat tey vill do to te udder vite 
man vill pe vuss tan all. So poys, hike out.” 

Mr. Hardrider drew all the loads from his pistol and supplied 
the cylinders with fresh cartridges. He packed up his belongings 
in a small bundle, and made ready to leave the country for an 
indefinite period. When he had completed his arrangements for 
departure he laid down on the ground close to the lantern and 
fell to reading “ The Life and Adventures of Jack Sheppard,” 
with which thrilling romance he entertained himself for nearly 
the entire remainder of the day. 

The old gentleman stirred about a good deal. He and Sam hid 
in the depths of the cavern many tell-tale articles which they did 
not wish to destroy, and which could not be conveniently carried 
away. All signs of recent occupation were obliterated as care- 
fully as possible. It was understood that the old gentleman would 
remain in the vicinity a day or two longer, so as to catch any 
fresh news that was stirring, and then would meet his friends at 

13 


194 


The K. K. K. 


a designated spot in another State, where the business of the sea- 
son would be wound up by a fair settlement. The old gentle- 
man seemed to be somewhat moody over leaving his apartments, 
and indulged but little more in conversation during the day. Once 
when he and the negro had sat down on the ground for a resting 
spell he remarked gravely to the latter after a considerable interval 
of silence : 

‘‘ Sam, tat man Perryerson is a coot man.” 

The negro nodded, but made no verbal response. 

“ May he liff long and perrosper,” continued the old gentle- 
man. 

The negro nodded again. 

It was about ten o’clock by ]\Ir. Hardrider’s accurate time- 
keeper when he and Sam Quackenboss made ready to mount and 
set off for distant parts. The old gentleman accompanied them 
as far as the bank of the stream, where he gave them his blessing 
and let them go. The negro here took off all his clothing except 
his hat, which Mr, Hardrider advised him to keep on for appear- 
ance’ sake. Strapping his raiment firmly to the saddle he led 
the larger horse by the bridle, holding a lantern in his right 
hand. The white robber came behind mounted on the slim racer, 
which followed in much trepidation, but without urging, close on 
the heels of the other animal. They made the many slippery wind- 
ings in safety, and when they reached a point which Sam knew 
was on the verge of the outer world, he extinguished his lantern. 
Proceeding a short distance farther he came to the mouth of the 
cave, and here he stood on a large rock in the middle of the 
stream and rehabilitated himself. Climbing into the saddle he 
maintained the lead until they reached the stony road that 
crossed the stream a few hundred yards below the cave. Here 
the two men halted for a moment, and Sam, in a whisper, pro- 
posed to his companion to take a drink, saying he was cold. 

“ Ten mile away from here there’s a spring,” replied Mr. 
Hardrider, ” and we’ll take a drink there, Sammy, if we ever get 
there. Till then not a drop goes down my throat.” 

‘‘ Mine nother, den,” responded Sam in a shivering whisper. 

Mr. Hardrider here took the lead, being familiar with the route. 
Wherever the way was broad enough Sam rode by his side, and 
when this could not be conveniently done he dropped behind. 
When they got away from the timber and into the open country 
they found it was a bright starlight night and pleasant as one 


An Exciting Adventure. 195 

could wish. There were several houses along the road, and by 
these they passed as quietly as they could, like gentlemen who 
were in no special hurry. Between these they rode faster, but 
there was nothing in the gait they traveled to indicate flight. By 
and by they came to a long lane, with a broad field on either 
hand. Mr. Hardrider had always considered this a critical part 
of his road, for there was little hope of escape in case of inter- 
ruption. Just before he entered it he drew rein and whispered 
to Sam : 

“If anybody tries to halt you here, clap spurs to your horse 
and ride right over him. It’s forward or backward in this place, 
and if you turn back they’ll kill you sure.” 

“ All right,” responded Sam in a voice that was low, husky, 
and tremulous. Perhaps he trembled from apprehension ; perhaps 
he was still chilly from exposure in the creek ; perhaps both causes 
combined to make his nerves unsteady. 

They proceeded without adventure for a half-mile or so, and 
Sam was just congratulating himself that the danger line was 
passed, when a tall tigure, dressed all in white, rose up by the 
roadside, and another figure, dressed in black, rose up on the 
opposite side of the way. The figure in white was astoundingly 
tall, and his eyes beamed more luminously than those of an owl 
in the night. The figure in black, of shorter stature, began wav- 
ing his arms and hopping up and down in the road as if he was 
making ready to fly. Neither spoke, and their unaccountable be- 
havior was calculated to astonish anybody. 

“ Oh, Mr. Hardrider, it’s de Ku Klux,” cried Sam in the ex- 
tremity of his terror. 

The highwayman did not respond to his companion nor under- 
take to hold converse with those in front of him. Instead of this 
he leveled his pistol at the head of the tallest individual in front 
of him and pulled trigger. At the flash and the report he 
clapped spurs to his steed, and, dashing like lightning between 
the" white spook and the black spook, went down the road as fast 
as the flying feet of the racer could take him. Sam endeavored 
to follow suit, but to his unspeakable terror he saw as he advanced 
that the head of the white spook had been knocked off by Mr. 
Hardrider’s pistol shot, while the body and legs were still cavort- 
ing about in the road. Staying no longer to question he rolled 
from his horse, leaped the fence on liis left, and fled tlie scene 
of action. Two or three shots whizzed over his head, but none 


The K. K. K. 


196 

came near him, or if so he was too badly frightened to take note 
of them. He ran till he was out of breath, then rested a while, 
and rose and ran again. When he had recovered his scattered 
senses he bent his way more deliberately toward the hiding place 
he had just left, and from which he knew the old man had not yet 
departed. 

Meanwhile the animal he had deserted in such unceremonious 
fashion wheeled in the road and would have made back in the 
direction from which it had come but that the tall spook — not 
minding the trifling accident of having lost its head — rushed for- 
ward in haste and seized the bridle rein. It was, as has been said, 
a starlight night, and objects near at hand could be discerned with 
tolerable distinctness. When the headless ghost had laid firm 
grip on the rein and consumed a second or two in inspecting the 
captured horse, he cried exultantly to his companion in black : 

“ Dandy Jim, by Jupiter.^’ 

The voice that made this announcement was the voice of Teddy 
McIntosh, though the stature and general make-up of the individ- 
ual hardly seemed to be that of a human being at all. 

“ Where’s my head ? ” inquired the spook that had appropri- 
ated Teddy’s voice. “ Look up in the fence corner there for it, 
will you? That fellow shot it clean oflf.” 

The fact is, Teddy and his companion, a member of the klan, 
had been assigned to duty on that particular road, with instruc- 
tions to halt and inquire into the business of all travelers who 
might pass their way. Desiring to mix a little fun with more 
serious duty they arrayed themselves in ghostly garbs, and re- 
solved, before bringing any approaching person to a halt, to cut 
a few such capers in the road as would be calculated to pro-* 
foundly impress the wayfarer. Teddy supposed this would, of 
course, lead to inquiry from the advancing party, and mutual 
explanations would follow. He was armed and had his pistol 
in his hand, as did his companion in black, when the two horse- 
men came down the lane, but when Mr. Hardrider unexpectedly 
popped away at him, and then charged down upon him, he was 
for the moment disconcerted. The loss of his pasteboard head 
was a small matter, but the bullet came uncomfortably close to 
his real scalp, indeed plowed a slight furrow in his cranium, and 
this for the instant put him out. His friend in black fired at the 
gentleman on the race nag, and also at the negro as he leai)ed 
the fence, but neither shot took effect. Teddy, as soon as he came 


197 


An Exciting Adventure. 

to himself, also opened up, but with little hope of doing anything 
more than making a racket. It was evident they had let two bold 
horse thieves and one horse get away; but as the fruit of the en- 
counter they had saved Dandy Jim, and this to Teddy’s mind was 
a great deal. He left his companion to stand guard the remainder- 
of the night, being convinced that no other exciting adventure 
would befall, and, mounting the captured animal, set off at once 
for the residence of its lawful owner. Miss Sue Bascombe. 

He had ten miles to go, but he reached his destination before 
day, and sent in word to the young lady, as soon as anybody was 
astir, that he had Dandy Jim safe and sound at the front gate, 
and she could come down and take possession if she was a mind to. 

Miss Sue came down without devoting overmuch time to her 
toilet, and having thankfully received back her own, invited Mr. 
McIntosh to breakfast. The young gentleman, after washing his 
face and hands, was of course obliged to relate the moving inci- 
dents of the night, and it goes without saying that he had an at- 
tentive auditor. Miss Sue was very fond of her horse, and she 
seemed to be very much obliged to the young gentleman who 
had rescued her horse from the clutch of the robber. She laughed 
when Teddy told her about getting his head shot off, and she 
expressed admiration for the stranger when she learned of his 
sudden onslaught and successful dash for liberty. 

“ Why, he’s a bold fellow, Teddy, this robber is,” she said. “ I’d 
like to know more about him.” 

“ I don’t care to know much more about him,” replied Teddy. 
“ I came very near knowing too much last night. Look where his 
bullet grazed my head.” 

She examined Mr. McIntosh’s head as he held it down for in- 
spection. There was a bruise where the missile had touched the 
skin. 

“ You should have shot first, Teddy,” said the young lady when 
she had completed her investigation. “ It was thoughtless of you 
to play ghost in the road with a robber in front.” 

“ I know it was,” answered Teddy. 

“ But I thank you ever so much for bringing’ Dandy Jim back, 
and I won’t forget you for it, Teddy.” 

“ Till when ? ” inquired the young man rather ungrammati- 
cally. 

Miss Sue Bascombe regarded the young man very kindly. “ I’ll 
remember you a long, long time, Teddy,” she answered. “ I al- 


The K. K. K. 


198 

ways did like you, you know. When you worked my sums for 
me at school, didn’t I like you then? ” 

‘‘ It was you worked mine,” answered Teddy. 

‘‘ So it was,” she replied. ‘‘ I forgot. Anyhow I like you, and 
always did like you. You know that.” 

He swallowed a time or two and turned rather red in the face. 
“ Wh-a-at about Ran Pearson ? ” he asked, blunderingly. 

She raised her head, tapped the floor with her foot, and an- 
swered deliberately : “ Ran Pearson is a nice old man. He’s get- 
ting bald-headed too fast and is too pokey for me.” 

He looked decidedly pleased. “ You like me, don’t you, Sue? 
You said so just now.” 

She eyed him kindly but calmly. “ I’ve liked you, Teddy,” 
she replied, “ ever since you used to let me do the sums for you 
at school.” 

Then the breakfast bell rang. When the meal was ended Mr. 
McIntosh left for his home, riding Dandy Jim, with a little negro 
boy behind him to take the horse back. As he rode he mused. 

That girl can twist anybody round her finger,” he said to him- 
self. 

It was an hour before day when Sam found his way on foot 
and in pitch darkness up the creek that led into the interior of the 
cave. He groped his way into the apartment where the old man 
slept by a fire which gave but little light or heat. The negro 
waked him and related his experience. The two remained in the 
cavern all the following day. Late in the evening they effectually 
secreted the few remaining articles that had not been disposed of 
the day before. 

“ Ve vill coom pack pime-by,” said the old gentleman. ‘‘ Meppe 
so, meppe so. Tis is a coot place for a man vat doose not vant to 
mix in coompany.” 

Shortly before midnight they withdrew, each with his clothes 
in a bundle on his head. At the entrance to the cave they robed 
themselves and quietly stole away from the vicinitv. Where they 
hid the next day, and where they lodged the following night, and 
for many suceeding nights, I cannot tell you. For weeks and 
weeks the creek flowed on through its narrow channel undisturbed 
by man or horse, and the snug guest chamber in the cavern was 
unoccupied. 


The Case is Called in Another County. 


199 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE ANKERSTROM CASE IS CALLED IN ANOTHER COUNTY — THE 

JUDGE IGNORES A POWERFUL AFFIDAVIT, AND THE TRIAL BEGINS. 

Four months is not always, and what with the plowing, and 
the planting, and the doing numberless odd jobs on the farm, the 
disgruntled folk who had come away from the court at Ashton 
did not find the time very long until they were summoned again 
to attend the court at Coopertown. It was not without consider- 
able difficulty, however, that Sherifif Sanderson, aided by Pear- 
son, induced the numerous witnesses to forsake their avocations 
at a busy time of the year and journey to a neighboring county to 
give evidence before judge and jury. Apprehension of being 
fined for non-attendance secured the presence of some of them, 
though there were not few who would have remained away if noth- 
ing else had been relied on to induce their attendance. The judge 
in that county was a good man, of respectable legal attainments, 
but getting along in years, and inclined to be both unduly harsh 
when at all exasperated, and unduly lenient when subsequently 
soothed. He would fine right and left when witnesses did not 
answer promptly to their names at the call of the- sherifif, and as a 
rule remove all the penalties if any sort of excuse was afterward 
made for their remissness. In common parlance, the bark of the 
old gentleman was worse than his bite, and while he would preach 
sermons in court about the duty of prompt obedience to process, 
and would grumble and fret over infractions of his many rules, 
he was not regarded generally as a rigid man on the bench. This 
being so it was not because they stood in awe of the court, but 
mainly as the result of cajolement and persuasion on the part of 
Sherifif Sanderson, supplemented by personal entreaty from Pear- 
son, that the major part of those notified were induced to take 
the long trip from their homes to Coopertown. 

They were finally gathered together, however, a respectable ar- 
ray as they stood up in the court-room to answer to their names 


200 


The K. K. K. 


as the noted case of the State of Tennessee versus Johan Anker- 
strom was called for trial the third time. A fe\/ material wit- 
nesses were absent, but in his earnest desire to proceed Pearson 
assured the State’s attorney that he would have them on hand the 
next day, and that official announced to the court that he was 
ready to proceed with the investigation of the cause. When the 
prosecuting attorney had so announced the judge inquired blandly 
of Palaver if his client was likewise ready to proceed. At this 
the lawyer rose from his seat and looked about gravely over the 
crowded court-room. He then handed to the officer in attendance 
a paper containing a long list of names, and requested that the 
persons designated be brought at once to the bar of the court. 
This official was an undersized man, with a keen voice well 
adapted to pierce the noise and confusion that frequently prevails 
in an ill-disciplined court-room. He now mounted a chair and 
called aloud to the whole assemblage to be quiet. He then read 
the names upon his paper, and here and there as he proceeded 
some one in the audience responded “ Here.” The sharp-voiced 
officer next went to a window and made proclamation, which sig- 
nified to the whole town that the attendance of certain persons 
was desired in court. Thus he secured the presence of about half 
the individuals on his list, and reported that the others were not 
in attendance upon the court. 

Upon receipt of this information Palaver looked grave. He 
perused the paper carefully and frowned, and knit his brows as 
if in considerable perplexity. After some minutes thus con- 
sumed he remarked to the court that he was very anxious to pro- 
ceed with the trial, as the case had already taken up more of his 
time than he could afford to devote to it, but he could. not announce 
ready while so many of his witnesses remained in contempt of 
the process of the court. Perhaps if the officer would take a turn 
around town he might fish some of these from the stores, or find 
them loafing on the corners, and fetch them into court. The 
judge at his suggestion began to shake his foot and his head at the 
same time, which his intimates said was a dangerous sign with 
him. Palaver upon this looked graver still, though he was in- 
wardly pleased, as the judge was more apt to commit some rever- 
sible error while in a pet than if he kept his cool judgment about 
him. 

“ I have no doubt, sir,” Palaver remarked smoothly, “ that my 
client’s witnesses will be in presently. They have a long distance 


201 


The Case is Called in Another County. 

to come, and it is now, as your honor will see, but a little past ten 
o’clock.” 

The judge here launched into a discourse upon the importance 
of prompt obedience to the orders of the court. He declared that 
business could not be transacted, and the people’s interests must 
suffer, if the process of the court was to be trifled with in such 
fashion. Witnesses might be higgling in stores or loafing on 
street corners, but they had no right to be higgling in stores or loaf- 
ing on street corners when their presence was demanded in court, 
and they had been duly summoned to appear in court and 
give evidence as to facts within their knowledge. Such wilful 
conduct, the judge declared, could not be tolerated, and he in- 
structed the clerk to enter a fine of ten dollars and costs against 
each one of the delinquents. 

Palaver, as soon as he could get a chance to edge in a word, re- 
marked emphatically that he heartily indorsed the action of the 
court and was satisfied the public generally would approve of it. 
“ Here I am,” said he, “ anxious to proceed with the trial of this 
cause, and my client — who has been languishing in jail for a year 
— is even more solicitous on the subject than myself, and yet, just 
as we feel confident that we are about to secure a hearing we find 
ourselves balked by the inexcusable absence of certain important 
witnesses, who might have been on hand just as easy as not. Your 
honor is exactly right,” cried Palaver, lifting his voice so as to be 
heard over the entire court-room, “ in teaching these fellows a 
lesson, and I hope they and others will profit by it. If there were 
more inflexible judges like your Honor in this State there would be 
less complaint about laxity in the administration of justice. Undue 
leniency on the part of the courts makes it impossible to proceed 
with the people’s business, and the failure to enforce prompt trial 
of causes necessarily leads to mob law, for if the courts will not 
attend to the people’s business the people will rise up en masse 
and attend to their own business. These interminable delays are 
ruinous to the best interests of the country, and are well calcu- 
lated to bring not only courts but the legal profession into con- 
tempt. Crime must be punished,” proclaimed the lawyer, warm- 
ing up to his work, and innocent men under grave imputations 
must be speedily set at liberty, and how can crime be punished, 
and innocent men set free, if those summoned to testify wilfully 
disobey the orders of the court ? I speak with feeling on this sub- 
ject,” continued the lawyer, with a touch of the pathetic in his. 


202 


The K. K. K. 


tone, “ and I frankly admit to your honor that my sensibilities in 
this particular case have been moved. Here is my client, as I have 
already said, languishing in the common jail with all sorts of low 
and vile fellows, unfit company for decent men. He is away, far 
away, if the honorable court please, from the friends of his child- 
hood and his own domestic circle. The gray hairs of his vener- 
able father are now being brought down in sorrow to the grave 
in consequence of his protracted incarceration. His poor wife is 
at this moment mourning upon her lonely hearthstone, and his 
little children are clinging about her knees and sobbing piteously 
for him who returns not. The contemplation of such a picture 
would be sufficient to touch a heart of stone, and your honor will 
therefore excuse me if I am somewhat moved as I dwell upon it 
here.” 

As Palaver was proceeding in this pathetic strain the keen- 
voiced official returned into court with the intelligence that he had 
been in all the stores and upon the street corners, had indeed 
searched the town high and low, without discovering any of the 
absent witnesses. He further stated, giving Sheriff Sanderson as 
his informant, that most of these witnesses were not under sub- 
poena, as the officers had not been able to find them in the adjoin- 
ing county, where they were supposed to reside. The clerk sub- 
stantiated this assertion by producing the subpoenas, which showed 
that the names of most of the persons sought for had been in- 
dorsed by the officers “ Not found.” 

Palaver adjusted his spectacles and examined the subpoenas 
critically. “No found! not found!” he exclaimed in astonish- 
ment. “ Why, where is the sheriff of that county ? Where is San- 
derson ? ” 

“ Pm here, sir,” responded that official, politely. 

“ Why were these witnesses not found, sir? ” inquired Palaver. 
“ Whose fault was that? ” 

Sanderson replied, respectfully, that some of the witnesses 
named were dead, some had long since moved away from his 
county, and some, he was of opinion, had never had any existence 
anywhere. 

“ Do you know every man in your county? ” inquired Palaver, 
severely. 

Sanderson admitted that he did not, though he added that his 
acquaintance was pretty extensive. 

“ And from your pretty extensive acquaintance, sir, you un- 


The Case is Called in Another County. 203 

dertake to say that some of these witnesses never had any existence 
anywhere? ” 

“ I say to the best of my knowledge and belief,” rejoined San- 
derson, firmly, “ that no such human beings ever lived in my 
county.” 

“ Ah,” replied Palaver, triumphantly, “ you modify your state- 
ment then, do you, Mr. Sheriff? First, you were quite sure the 
witnesses lived nowhere on the face of the earth; now you give 
it as your opinion that they do not abide in your county. Which 
means, I take it, sir, that for some reason satisfactory to yourself, 
you have not chosen to look for them in your county.” 

Then without giving Sheriff Sanderson a chance to reply, the 
lawyer addressed himself to the court : “ It is quite evident, if the 
honorable court please,” said he, “ that the statement we have just 
heard is but a flimsy excuse on the part of this officer for his own 
remissness. As my witnesses are not here, sir, I shall, of course, 
have to ask a continuance to the next term, but I wish the case set 
for the very first day of that term ; and I wish, sir, the process put 
in the hands of some officer who will use his very best endeavor 
to bring my witnesses into court on the day set. I will now retire, 
sir, for a few moments and prepare a suitable affidavit in order 
that the papers in the case may show that I was obliged to ask for, 
and your honor was obliged to grant, this continuance.” 

With that the lawyer retired in company with his client. After 
the lapse of a half-hour he returned with an affidavit as long as 
his arm, which, having been sworn to by the defendant, he pro- 
ceeded to read to the court. The judge listened gravely at first, 
and then with manifest impatience, and when the reading was 
through announced promptly and emphatically that the allegations 
in the document were insufficient and the case must proceed to 
trial. Whereupon Palaver in the presence of the court and by- 
standers heaved a deep sigh, and said it was a serious thing to put 
a man on trial for his life when none of his material witnesses were 
present to testify in his behalf. 

The witnesses were then sworn and placed under the rule : that 
is, they were instructed to retire from the court-room, and to 
avoid all mention of the case among themselves, or with others, 
until they were called back to testify before the jury. The jurors 
who had been summoned for the occasion, an even hundred, were 
next called over, and a list of their names given to the prisoner’s 
counsel. One by one they were then brought to the bar of the 


204 


The K. K. K. 


court and each examined upon his “ voire dire.” Being first put 
upon their solemn oaths, they were required to state whether they 
were householders or freeholders of the county in which the trial 
was to be had ; whether they were in any way related to the 
prosecutor or the prisoner at the bar ; and whether they had formed 
or expressed an opinion as to the guilt or innocence of said 
prisoner. - The first two questions were easily answered, but the 
third oftentimes proved a stumper to the court as well as the 
juror. The prisoner, as has been said, under the over-cautious 
law of Tennessee, was given twenty-four peremptory challenges ; 
that is, his counsel could direct two dozen of those summoned as 
jurors to stand aside without leave of court, and without assigning 
any reason for his objection. Palaver, however, was by no means 
content with this liberal provision in his own behalf, but set to 
work to probe the mind of each man brought forward to the very 
bottom, and thus ascertain for himself whether he was or was not 
a competent juror. If the person under investigation turned out 
to be a complete ignoramus he usually accepted him as one fit to sit 
on the case at bar, but if he was of even moderate intelligence 
the lawyer insisted he was incompetent. He harried and worried 
one after another of those composing the venire until the judge 
completely lost his temper, and each succeeding juror as his name 
was called approached the clerk with trepidation. They were 
good men in the main, who did not wish to serve anyway, and were 
perfectly willing when they found themselves drawn into sharp 
discussion with the lawyer to take the smoothest way out of the 
difficulty. 

“ Who has talked with you about this case ? ” inquired Palaver, 
fiercely, of an honest farmer, who said in answer to the clerk’s 
question that he had no fixed opinion as to the guilt or innocence 
of the prisoner, though like most everybody else he had heard some 
talk of the Bascombe murder. 

” Who has talked with you about this case ? ” inquired Palaver 
of the juror. 

” Wal, I dunno. Nobody in particular, I reckon. Jess a word 
here, and a word there, you know.” 

“Just a word here, and a word there, you say?” responded 
the lawyer, inching his chair up nearer to the individual whom he 
sought to bring into trouble. 

“ Yes, ’bout that way, you know. Jess a little loose talk that 
didn’t signify.” 


205 


The Case is Called in Another County. 

“ Didn’t signify ? ” repeated Palaver, in his most sarcastic tone. 
“ Didn’t signify? Now, sir, will you please state to me specifically 
just- what this loose talk was that in your opinion didn’t signify. 
Will you state it, sir, so that I and the judge may determine 
whether or not it signifies. Can you state it specifically, sir? ” 

“ Wal, squire,” replied the unlucky witness, after some hesita- 
tion, “ I dunno as I kin.” 

“ Dunno as you kin? ” repeated Palaver, still more sarcastically, 
and drawing still nearer the prospective juror. Those behind the 
rail now began to press forward, being confident from the turn af- 
fairs were taking that there was fun ahead. Palaver, of course, 
noted this demonstration, and was pleased with it. He began now 
- rubbing his hands, and looking first toward his intended victim 
and then back upon the bystanders as if to assure them they would 
not be disappointed.' 

‘‘ Dunno as you kin ? ” repeated Palaver. “ You are the kind of 
fellow then who cannot be influenced in the least by loose talk, 
but with whom tight talk goes a long way. Is that it ? ” 

“ Mebbe so, squire, mebbe so,” replied the discomforted farmer. 
The crowd here broke into a laugh and a disorderly demonstra- 
tion which it required proclamation from the sheriff to quell. 

“ Tight talk is very persuasive, but loose talk doesn’t signify,” 
pursued the facetious attorney. “ That’s the way of it with you, 
is it? That’s the v/ay of it with you? Now, sir, let us test the ac- 
curacy of the conclusion you have reached in this matter. Will 
you please define for me, sir, precisely the difference between 
loose talk and tight talk as laid down in your - dictionary ? ” 

The juror shook his head. ” I wouldn’t try to do that, squire,” 
he replied. ‘‘ I wouldn’t try to do that.” 

“ Wouldn’t try to do that? Then, sir, I’ll ask you another ques- 
tion, and I hope I’ll be more fortunate in eliciting a reply. Will 
you please inform me, sir, whether you actually heard this loose 
talk that you say was going round in your section ? ” 

“ Yes, I heerd it.’’ 

‘‘ Actually heard it, did you ? ” 

‘‘ Yes, I heerd it.” 

“ No mistake about that? ” 

“ No, thar ain’t no mistake about it. That is,” he added for 
fear of being led into a trap, ‘‘ I don’t reckon thar’s any mistake 
about it.” 

At this Palaver laughed. The crowd behind the bar laughed 


2 o 6 The K. K. K. 

again, and the sherifY a second time admonished them to be 
quiet. 

“ You are not deaf, are you? ” inquired the lawyer of the wit- 
ness. 

“ No, I ain’t deef.” 

“ Then you must have heard it.” 

” Heerd which ? ” 

“ Why, the loose talk that you say was going round in your 
neighborhood.” 

” Yes, I heerd it.” 

“ You are positive? ” 

“ Yes, Tm positive.” 

“ Now, sir,” queried the lawyer, assuming an argumentative 
tone, “ ril ask you if any kind of talk — loose talk or tight talk — 
can go in at your ear without making some sort of impression on 
vour mind ? ” 

“Which?” 

“ You have good ears, you s^y? ” 

“ Yes, pooty good.” 

“ And you have a mind, sir? ” 

“ Oh, yes ; I reckon so. Yes, I know in reason I must have. Of 
course TVe got a mind.” 

“ Then, sir. Til ask you if it’s possible for any sort of informa- 
tion to be conveyed through those ears of yours without making an 
impression upon that mind of yours ? ” 

“ Which ? ” 

“ Can anything go in at your ears without effecting a lodgment 
in your mind ? ” 

“ No, I reckon not.” 

“ And if anything in the way of information does go in at your 
ears, and does effect a lodgment in your mind, then you have an 
opinion, haven’t you ? ” 

The judge here heaved a deep groan. 

“ Under them circumstances I reckon I would. I’d be ’bleeged 
to have an opinion under them circumstances, wouldn’t I, squire ? ” 
“ You’d be ’bleeged to have an opinion, would you? ” 

“ Yes, I would.” 

“ You couldn’t help it? ’ 

“ No, I couldn’t help it.” 

“ Now, sir, you say you heard words passing about in your 


The Case is Called in Another County. 207 

neighborhood on the subject of the Bascombe murder? A word 
here, and a word there, to use your own expression.” 

“ Yes, I said that.” 

And these words found lodgment in your mind ? ” 

“ To be sure.” 

“ And made an impression which it would require other testi' 
mony to remove ? ” 

“ Suttinly.” 

** Then you have an opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the 
prisoner ? ” 

Wal, now, see here, squire, I ” 

Have you an opinion, or have you not ? ” 

“ Wal now, see here. Accordin’ to your way of puttin’ the 
thing ” 

Answer my question; yes or no.” 

Have I got an opinion ? ” 

“ Ye-ss,” with considerable asperity. “ Have you an opinion 
in your own mind at present as to the guilt or innocence of the 
prisoner? If not, sir. I’ll trouble you to tell me ” 

“ Yes, I reckon I’ve got some sort of an opinion floatin’ round 
in my mind. I reckon so.” 

“ You admit that now, do you ? ” 

Yes, I own to that now ; though at fust, you see ” 

“ You have an opinion as to the guilt or innocence of the pris- 
oner ? ” 

“ Yes, I have,” responded the tired juror, willing to bring the 
discussion to an end upon any terms. 

“ And it would require proof to remove that opinion ? ” 

Yes, it would.” 

“ I challenge him for cause,” cried the triumphant attorney, ad- 
dressing the court. 

Let him stand aside,” said the exasperated judge. “ But I’m 
satisfied he has no opinion in his mind worth a shuck.” 

So it went all the forenoon, and all the hot afternoon, and what 
with the twenty-four peremptory challenges for no cause at all, 
and the limitless number for next to no cause at all, the sun went 
down, and the court adjourned before twelve good and lawful men 
had taken their seats in the jury box. It was evident that Palaver 
had resolved to try the cause before twelve idiots if so many 
could be found in the county, for he managed to get rid of every 
individual on the venire whose answers indicated that he was of 


2o8 


The K. K. K. 


average intelligence, or whom he knew to be of respectable stand- 
ing in the community. When night came, however, he had ex- 
hausted his twenty-four peremptory challenges, and ten jurors 
had been chosen, so there was reasonable ground for hoping the 
trial might begin in the forenoon of the following day. The sher- 
iff was instructed to fetch in a fresh panel of jurors, as every one 
of the original hundred had either been accepted or ordered to 
stand aside upon one pretext or another. 

The witnesses for the State and the prisoner found accommoda- 
tion for the night as best they could, and resorted to various de- 
vices to while away time until the nine o’clock bell should con- 
vene court the following morning. 


Miss Sue Bascombe Takes the Stand. 


209 


CHAPTER XXIL 

MISS SUE BASCOMBE TAKES THE STAND, AND THERE ENSUES A VERY 
LEARNED ARGUMENT OF A VERY GRAVE POINT. 

The next morning when court assembled the two additional 
jurors were secured with less trouble than had been anticipated. 
The prisoner’s peremptory challenges had been exhausted, and the 
sheriff had brought into court a fresh lot of men, most of whom 
were intellectually above the standard which Palaver had fixed in 
his own mind as the proper one in the selection of jurors. He 
would have gotten rid of each of these no doubt upon the ground 
that he knew, or had heard, something of the case at bar, but the 
judge this morning had taken his seat on the bench with the re- 
solve to proceed with the order of business, and so he ruled sev- 
eral times that the individual under scrutiny had no disqualifying 
opinion, while Palaver insisted mightily that he had. Slowboy, who, 
of course, was present in court, backed up his chieftain’s conten- 
tion with some dry logic, and several decisions from the supreme 
judicial tribunal of the State, but the trial judge to-day had the 
bit in his teeth — as the lawyers said — and made no bones of hold- 
ing promptly and decisively against the two attorneys as soon as 
the sentences from their lips had ceased to reverberate in the court- 
room. This unjudicial conduct brought grief to the older lawyer, 
but Slowboy was secretly pleased, for being but a plain matter-of- 
fact fellow he always preferred to have plain common-sense men 
before him to whom he could address his talk. 

The twelve jurors being now chosen were called upon by the 
clerk to rise in their seats and raise their right hands preparatory 
to being sworn as triers of the cause. 

Where’s the book ? Where’s the book ? ” exclaimed Palaver, 
testily. “ We want no new-fangled notions here. Fetch out the 
book, Mr. Clerk.” 

So the clerk rummaged among his pigeon holes, and finally pro- 
duced a dusty and somewhat greasy New Testament, which the 

54 


210 


The K. K. K. 


first juror solemnly kissed in open court and passed to his neigh- 
bor, and so it went down the line. This grave ceremonial through, 
the twelve jurors resumed their seats, the indictment was read, 
and the trial of Johan Ankerstrom, alias Cross-eyed Jack, etc., for 
the murder of Mrs. Susan Bascombe was begun at last. 

Miss Sue Bascombe was the first witness introduced, and she 
made an excellent impression on judge and jury; indeed upon all 
those present in the court-room. She told a plain unvarnished tale 
without embellishment, without embarrassment — though sur- 
rounded by strangers — and without attempt at display. She de- 
scribed the location of the house in which she and her grand- 
mother had dwelt, and, for the better information of the jurors, 
drew with a piece of chalk on the court-room floor an accurate dia- 
gram showing the plan of the building. Here to the left as you 
faced the highway was the lower room occupied as a sleeping 
apartment by herself and Mrs. Susan Bascombe. At the other end 
of the structure was the company room, which, as its designation 
indicated, was usually reserved for visitors, though during the pre- 
ceding winter it had been occupied for purposes of study by Mr. 
Wiseman, the schoolmaster. Between these was the open hallway 
from which a narrow passage, with a locked door at top, led to the 
half-story apartments above. With what seemed to be unneces- 
sary particularity the attorney-general drew from the witness the 
minutest details as to the plan of the old building where the crime 
was committed. He wished to fix vividly in the minds of the 
jurors the scene of the tragedy, and he saw they were all keenly 
intent as the girl, kneeling most of the while on the floor with the 
lump of chalk in her hand, answered calmly the various questions 
propounded to her. Here was the bed on which she had slept, and 
there was the one occupied by her grandmother. Close beside her 
couch was a window which looked into the back yard, and within 
reach of her grandmother’s arm was a door opening into the front 
yard, there being only one low step from the sill to the ground 
outside. Here was what was called the middle door, opening into 
the hallway and leading across this into the spare room by a door 
exactly opposite. A little way off from the main building — here, 
and here, and here — were the kitchen and smokehouse and hen- 
house. Running thus was the rail fence encircling the premises, 
and immediately back of the residence was a steep ridge on the 
side of which the foliage was then dense, for it was summer 
time. 


Miss Sue Bascombe Takes the Stand. 


211 


To all this rather dry description the judge listened, the jurors 
listened, and even Palaver gave respectful attention. It was not 
usual to see a young girl in a crowded court-room drawing plans 
with a piece of chalk on the floor, and illustrating her sketch with 
verbal description as simple and direct as if it had come from a 
teacher of mathematics instructing a class. All the younger law- 
yers at the bar crowded about and looked over the shoulders of 
those immediately engaged in the case ; and Slowboy — who by vir- 
tue of his partnership with Palaver had a front seat — sat with 
open eyes staring at Sue, and forgetful to make notes of her tes- 
timony on the unscratched tablet which he held in his lap. 

When the diagram was completed and the descriptive matter 
ended, the young lady resumed her seat in the witness chair, and 
detailed to the jury the startling incidents of the night of the trag- 
edy. The sash of the window by her bed that night was raised, 
but the blind was closed. It was about midnight when between 
sleeping and waking she heard a light step in the open hallway 
between the room occupied by herself and grandmother and the 
spare room used for the reception of visitors. She had been 
wakeful during the night, and with her faculties all on the alert she 
recognized this step at once as the stealthy tread of a human being. 
It was not the trot of a dog or the footfall of any smaller animal, 
for she was not unaccustomed to these, and could distinguish them 
at once. The intruder paused when he reached the door of the 
family room and seemed to stand still and listen for a few mo- 
ments. Then a violent blow was struck that jarred the house, 
and her grandmother, awakened by the crash, sprang out of bed in 
a moment. In an instant, or almost immediately following the 
first blow, a second was struck, more violent than the first, and 
the door gave way. The widow Bascombe, being remarkably ac- 
tive for one of her years, by this time had reached the door by her 
bedside that led into the front yard and made her escape through 
that. The witness threw open the shutter by her couch and leaped 
through the small window into the back yard. As she did so she 
glanced back fearfully and saw the form of a man in the doorway 
that had been broken open. It was quite dark, and she could not 
discern his features, could not even tell whether it was a white 
man or a negro, but she could tell it was the figure of a human 
being of low stature and somewhat bulky build. There was no 
weapon in the house except a shotgun that rested in a rack on the 
opposite wall, and she did not know to a certainty that this was 


212 


The K. K. K. 


loaded. When her grandmother disappeared through the front 
door she leaped, as said, through the little window by her bed into 
the back yard, and ran as fast as she could up the steep hill that 
rose immediately in the rear of the house. Her grandmother 
could have escaped in the darkness through the front yard, and 
she thought she had done so until she was startled by her cry in the 
immediate vicinity of the house. The witness by this time was 
some distance away, but when she heard her grandmother’s cry 
she at once turned back, determined to go to her rescue at whatever 
cost. She was barefooted, and the stones on the hillside hurt her 
feet, but she made the best speed she could back toward the house 
she had left. Suddenly a light blazed out from the building, then 
she heard her grandmother’s cry again, the second time more 
startling than the first. When she neared the yard fence she 
heard the barking of a dog and the sound of running feet. Think- 
ing there must be a number of ruffians about the house she paused 
and hesitated before advancing farther. All was now still, and the 
flames from the burning house lit up the scene around. Deter- 
mined in her anxiety to go forward at whatever hazard, she 
climbed the yard fence, and, making a circuit round the flames, 
found her grandomther at some distance away, speechless, desper- 
ately wounded, and with her clothing and flesh badly burned. She 
did what she could to assist her, and in a short while was joined 
by first one and then another of the friendly neighbors. Briefly, 
and speaking from her own personal knowledge, this was all she 
could tell as to the horrible tragedy that cost her grandmother’s 
life, and resulted in the destruction of the home in which she her- 
self had dwelt since infancy. 

As Sue Bascombe told her story calmly and without the slightest 
attempt at embellishment, she elicited the special admiration of the 
old judge, who remarked aside to the clerk, while she was on the 
stand, that he had seldom seen in the court-room a witness who 
so faithfully narrated the incidents within her own personal knowl- 
edge, without apparent design to afifect the issue either one way or 
the other. The attorney-general vainly sought to induce her to 
strengthen her tale, and Palaver on cross-examination almost as 
vainly sought to lure her into some admission that would weaken 
it. She had said she did not recognize the man who entered the 
room on the night of the murder, but that he was of low stature 
and heavily built. The State’s officer urged her to refresh her 
memory and state to the jury whether the intruder on that occa- 


Miss Sue Bascombe Takes the Stand. 


213 


sion was a white man or a negro. He asked her whether in the 
dim light she could not distinguish features far enough to say 
that the face of the housebreaker was white and not black. He 
more than intimated that this was a highly important point in 
the chain of evidence, and if possible she should fix her memory 
on the incident, and undertake to say whether as she glanced 
back at the figure the impression made on her mind was not that 
it was a white man who was forcing his way into the room. The 
girl replied positively and calmly that no such impression was 
made on her mind at the time; that as she glanced back hur- 
riedly she saw the figure of a human being in the doorway ; that 
it was the figure, not of a tall person, but of one whom she thought 
was rather below the average height. It impressed her also as 
being the figure of a stout man. It was a hasty glance she gave, 
and she could only trace the outlines of a human form against 
the dim light in the hallway. Possibly, she admitted to Palaver, 
she might be mistaken as to its being a stout and not a slim 
figure, but she was not mistaken as to its being the figure of a 
man of low stature. She had seen the prisoner several times 
before, and knew the negro, Kinchen, quite well, but she did not 
recognize either of them as being the person standing in the door- 
way. It would not have been possible, however, for her to have 
recognized the most intimate friend under the circumstances. 

The most hotly contested point in the progress of the trial was 
as to whether the statement made by the widow Bascombe shortly 
before her death should go to the jury as testimony. It was evi- 
dent from the earnestness of the attorneys on both sides that the 
decision of the judge on this question was of vital importance, 
and Sue was given a good rest while they argued the matter at 
length before the court. They glided into the sharp discussion 
so quietly that the storm broke loose around her before she was 
aware of the fact that trouble was brewing. After she had de- 
tailed without interruption all of the incidents connected with 
the murder of which she had personal knowledge, the attorney- 
general in a matter-of-course way propounded to her the follow- 
ing query : 

“ I’ll ask you. Miss Bascombe, whether your grandmother a 
short while before her death did not make a statement in your 
presence, in which she said that she recognized the prisoner as 
the man who broke into the house and dealt her the blow with 
an ax from which she afterward died ? ” 


214 


The K. K. K. 


“ What’s that ? What’s that ? ” cried Palaver, whose attention 
for the moment had been diverted to something else. 

“ I’m seeking to introduce,” replied the attorney-general, “ the 
dying declaration of the widow Bascombe.” 

Palaver: “Well, well, sir; suppose we first inquire in the 
usual fashion whether there was a dying declaration.” 

The attorney-general (rising and addressing the court) : “ We 
propose to show, if the court please, that the widow Bascombe 
on the night of her death distinctly recognized the prisoner at 
the bar, had a conversation with him, told him she recognized 
him, and would have him punished for housebreaking and arson, 
and that he killed her to prevent her carrying her threat into 
execution ; that he struck her a murderous blow with an ax, 

if the honorable court please ” 

Palaver (raising his arm and shaking his right hand nerv- 
ously) : “ I object, I object, I object.” 

Attorney-general: “Object to what? You will surely let me 
state to the court what I expect to prove by this witness ? ” 

Palaver (at white heat) : “No, sir-ee. We’ll do nothing 
of the kind, sir. Nothing of the kind. We insist, sir, that old 
Granny Bascombe never made any statement at all after she re- 
ceived the fatal blow, and if she made any statement, sir, it was 
but the incoherent rambling of one out of her head : that she 
did not talk at all, sir, and was incapable of talking if she had 
wished to talk, and if she did talk she didn’t know what she was 
saying. And we protest, sir, we do most emphatically protest, 
against having the minds of this jury prejudiced by the astound- 
ing statements of counsel. And we ask, sir, to the end that the 
minds of the jurors be not prejudiced by such astounding state- 
ments, that the jury retire under charge of the sheriff while we 
discuss this matter before the court.” 

The twelve jurors having been sent from the court-room, the 
attorney-general and Palaver now had it up and down before the 
learned judge as to the admissibility of the evidence sought to 
be introduced by the State’s officer. First Palaver insisted that 
he had a right to qualify the witness and ascertain from her 
whether her grandmother made any statement on the last day 
or night of her life, and if so whether such statement was made 
under circumstances that entitled it to be introduced now as the 
dying declaration of the old lady. The court agreeing with 
him as to this he proceeded to interrogate the young lady in the 
absence of the jury. 


215 


Miss Sue Bascombe Takes the Stand. 

Palaver : “ I’ll ask you, Miss Batson ” 

The witness, interrupting: “ Miss Bascombe.” 

Palaver: “Very well, then, Bascombe, Bascombe. I’ll ask 
you. Miss — ah — Bascombe, whether or not your grandmother 
made any statement shortly before her death in connection with 
the matter at hand — whether she undertook to tell how the blow 
resulting in her death was given, and by whom it was given? I’ll 
ask you if she told at all how the thing occurred? ” 

The witness : “ She did.” 

Palaver: “ I’ll ask you whether at -the time she made this 
statement she was in your opinion in her right mind — whether 
she knew what she was about ? ” 

The witness : “ She was entirely at herself, and fully conscious 
of what she was saying.” 

Palaver: “You are quite sure, then. Miss — ah — Batson — Bas- 
combe — that your grandmother was compos mentis when she 
delivered this utterance ? ” 

The witness : “ I do not understand you, sir.” 

Palaver: “ You think the old lady knew what she was talking 
about ? ” 

The witness : “ I am quite sure she did.” 

Palaver : “ I will now ask you. Miss — ah — Miss — ah — Bas- 
combe, whether this utterance of your grandmother was delivered 
in view of approaching death — whether she thought her earthly 
existence was soon to terminate, and so thinking she made to 
those present a dying declaration in order that her testimony in 
the case might not be lost entirely ? ” 

The witness : “ Why, no, I cannot say that my grandmother’s 
statement was made under the impression that she was soon to 
die. On the contrary, she was quite hopeful, and, I think, ex- 
pected to xj cover from the wound she received.” 

Palavey “ Did she say anything which v/ould indicate to you 
that she ' either expected to recover or considered her wound 
fatal ? ” 

The witness: “Yes; when I asked her a short while before 
her death if she wasn’t better, she replied that she was, and ex- 
pected to continue to improve. And she asserted several times 
during the afternoon and night that it was her purpose to appear 
in court and testify against the prisoner here.” 

Palaver (inching his chair closer to the witness and putting 
his hand behind his ear as if he wished to lose not a syllable of 


2i 6 The K. K. K. 

her reply): “Ah — ah; beg pardon. Say that again, say that 
again.” 

The witness : “ I say my grandmother did not seem to consider 
her wound fatal, but on the contrary expressed herself as con- 
fident that she would recover, and more than that, announced 
that she expected to appear in court and testify against this man, 
Johan Ankerstrom.” 

Palaver (waving his hand and smiling triumphantly) : “ That 

will do; that will do. You may stand aside. Miss — ah — Bass- 
ford.” 

The attorney-general : “ Wait a little, wait a little. You 
say. Miss Bascombe, that your grandmother was desperately 
wounded.” 

The witness : “ She was indeed, sir.” 

The attorney-general: “ You all thought her wound fatal? ” 

The witness: “ We certainly did, sir.” 

The attorney-general : “ The doctor thought so? ” 

The witness : “ He said so when he first saw her. After a 
while, though, he seemed to think there was some chance for her 
life, and so indeed did we all. She was so strong, and so confi- 
dent herself, that she inspired us with a little hope.” 

The attorney-general : “ Still her wound was of such fearful 
nature that there could have been no other reasonable expectation 
from the start except that death would follow ? ” 

The witness : “ That is certainly true.” 

The attorney-general : “ Your grandmother in her statement 
declared that she recognized the prisoner here as her assailant, did 
she not ? ” 

The witness : “ Shall I state what my grandmother said on 
this subject?” 

The attoniey-general : “ Yes, go on, and tell what she said.” 

The witness : “ She said when she saw the house on fire, and 
turned back, the prisoner here ran out to meet her, with an ax 
in his hand. She cried to him — I will endeavor to give her exact 
language — ‘ I know you, you low-lived scoundrel, and Til have the 
law on you for this night’s work.’ When she said that the pris- 
oner used some insulting expression, which my grandmother did 
not repeat, and struck her a violent blow with his ax.” 

The attorney-general: “Your grandmother recovered con- 
sciousness some hours after the blow was struck, and, as I am 
informed, made a statement to those about her of all the facts 


Miss Sue Bascombe Takes the Stand. 


217 


connected with the crime. Til ask you if this statement was a 
clear and connected one, made of her own volition, or was it drawn 
from her in reply to frequent questioning?’’ 

The witness : “ It was a clear and connected statement, made 
of her own volition. I tried to induce her to stop, thinking so 
much talking might injure her, but she persisted, and would not 
cease until she had given us all the facts within her knowledge. 
She was much incensed at the hanging of the negro, Kinchen, by 
the mob, and told her story, I think, to show what cruel injustice 
had thus been done an innocent person.” 

The attorney-general : “ That will do, Miss Bascombe.” 

Palaver (addressing the court) : ‘‘ Well, if this is a dying dec- 
laration then I’m free to say, if the honorable court please, that 
I’ve been in error all my life as to what a dying declaration was.” 

At that the fun began, for the attorney-general promptly rose 
and said if this was not a dying declaration, then he was badly 
mistaken as to what a dying declaration was. Palaver insisted 
that according to all the authorities a dying declaration could only 
be introduced subsequently as evidence in court when the declar- 
ant was in extremis at the time of making it, and not only in 
extremis, but fully conscious of the fact that death was nigh, and 
in that solemn frame of mind which would be the necessary result 
of such a conviction. The serious frame of mind that would be 
necessarily induced by the consciousness of approaching death 
was the very essence of a dying or death-bed declaration. 
The solemnity of such an occasion was supposed to equal 
the sanctity of an oath in open court, and therefore the law 
permitted genuine dying declarations to be introduced as evi- 
dence where in consequence of intervening death it was im- 
possible to have the declarant sworn and examined in open court. 
Now, here was an old woman who not only was not influenced 
by the solemn impression that she was about to die, but who 
stoutly persisted that she intended to live, and further that she 
intended to come to court and testify against the prisoner here. 
Her statement, whatever it was, was certainly not considered by 
her to be a dying declaration, and therefore could not be taken 
here as a dying declaration. It would be a contradiction in terms 
to hold that she could intentionally deliver to those gathered about 
her a solemn death-bed statement when she herself at the time was 
not conscious of the fact that she was upon her death-bed. All 
this and much more Palaver urged with great vehemence before 


2 i 8 The K. K. K. 

the court, and to him the attorney-general with much force and 
logic did make reply. 

The old rule, he conceded, had been as insisted upon by the 
counsel for the prisoner, but many of these inflexible old rules had 
been modified, or done away with, by modern decisions. A dying 
declaration now was a serious statement made by one who when 
making it was actually at the point of death, and who was soon 
afterward taken by death beyond the jurisdiction of the court. 
Such statements, no matter what might have been the frame of 
mind of the person uttering them, should always be critically 
weighed, since there was no opportunity to examine the informant 
in open court. But at last the reason for admitting them as evi- 
dence at all was not the fanciful one given by the prisoner’s 
counsel, but arose from the,very necessity of the case. The inter- 
preters of the law, in weighing the offer to introduce such testi- 
mony, found in most cases that they must either reject credible 
statements of the highest importance in the elucidation of the 
issue, or they must permit, contrary to usage, the jury to weigh 
as evidence matter that had not been received from the lips of 
sworn witnesses before them. In the interest of justice the most 
liberal judges of the present day chose the latter alternative, but 
in so doing allowed the declarations received to be thoroughly 
sifted, so that the jury might know precisely how much impor- 
tance to attach to them. If they were wrung from the dying 
informant by frequent questioning, if they were uttered in the 
broken intervals of fever, if they were in themselves contradic- 
tory, if they were inconsistent with other indisputable facts in 
the case, intelligent jurors would attach but little weight to them. 
If they were the clear and connected utterances of reliable per- 
sons, if they were spoken with no other apparent motive than 
a desire to tell the truth, if they were not improbable in them- 
selves, and not inconsistent with other established facts in the 
case, they would be entitled to, and doubtless would receive, much 
consideration from the triers of the cause. To say that such 
statements should not be received at all as evidence would be 
oftentimes to screen the guilty and defeat the very purpose for 
which criminal courts were organized. Take the case now be- 
fore us, and see how shocking to the conscience would be the 
application of the rule for which the prisoner’s counsel contends. 
Here in a retired country neighborhood had been committed the 
double crimes of house-breaking and house-burning, two of the 


Miss Sue Bascombe Takes the Stand. 219 

gravest felonies known to the law. The perpetrator of these out- 
rages was recognized by the brave old woman whose home he 
had ruthlessly destroyed at midnight. Standing there unbe- 
friended and alone with the villain, her sole thought was that 
the law of her State would avenge her, and she had the courage to 
tell him that she would appeal to that law against him. What 
next followed? Why, if the court please, to prevent her appeal 
to the courts of her State he raised his murderous ax and cleft 
her skull in twain. He fled, thinking he had killed her where 
she stood, but fortunately before she left this earth she recovered 
her strength a little, and delivered to those about her a plain un- 
varnished tale, setting forth the night’s incidents in detail and 
informing them of the real author of the crime. It is this plain 
statement, which carried conviction with it, that we seek now to 
introduce before the jury as evidence. If your honor holds this 
may not be done, then Johan Ankerstrom has accomplished the 
very object he had in view when he slew the brave old widow in 
the glare of her burning home, and he has accomplished it — your 
honor cannot be offended if I say so — by the aid of the court. 

Palaver replied, and the attorney-general rejoined, and so they 
had it, the counsel for the State and the counsel for the prisoner, 
for the space of considerablv more than an hour. They strove 
mightily, for each felt that the final result in all probability de- 
pended on the decision of the court as to the admission or rejection 
of this dying declaration. They talked at the learned judge and 
over the head of Sue Bascombe, who sat immediately below his 
Honor, and facing in the same direction as he. It would have 
been trying to some young women to sit for such a length of time 
bolt upright in a high arm-chair fronting two pugnacious lawyers 
whose arguments were addressed, so far as the bystanders could 
determine, as much to herself as the court. Miss Bascombe, 
however, resigned herself calmly to the situation and seemed to 
be much interested in the discussion. She had never before 
heard of a dying declaration, and did not understand the legal 
significance attached to the term. Now she was much concerned 
in finding out whether it was essential that persons making such 
declaration should know themselves to be in extremis at the time 
of delivering the utterance, or whether it was sufficient if they 
actually were in extremis and told a connected story to those in 
attendance. She weighed the arguments pro and con as the dis- 
cussion proceeded, and by the time the lawyers were short of 


220 


The K. K. K. 


ideas and out of breath had reached the conclusion in her own 
mind that by all the rules of justice and common sense her 
grandmother’s statement should be allowed to go to the jury as 
evidence. So the learned judge, sitting just behind her, ruled 
when it finally came his turn to speak, and Sue was glad to find 
so sensible a person holding the scales of justice. 


The Judge Sentences the Prisoner. 


* 


221 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE JUDGE SENTENCES THE PRISONER TO HANG SPEEDILY; BUT THE 
LATTER GRANTS HIMSELF A RESPITE OF A YEAR OR SO. 

Ankerstrom during all the ups and downs of the long trial 
maintained his same stolid demeanor and seemed to be not very- 
particular which side won in the frequent tilts between Palaver 
and the attorney-general. He appeared to rather enjoy the whole 
as a free show gotten up for his benefit, and grinned quite often 
at the discomforture of his own counsel when some thrust of the 
State’s officer brought the former to grief. The theory of the 
defense was that the right man had already been hung for the 
murder, and Palaver brought forward every circumstance that 
would assist him in getting this notion into the heads of the jury. 
He bothered the witnesses no little as to the precise words uttered 
by old Mrs. Bascombe when she told of the tragedy. Are you 
certain she said that?” ‘‘ Now, didn’t she say this?” he would 
inquire again and again in his most aggressive manner. He 
succeeded in working one or two of those whom he badgered into 
a display of temper, and that was nuts for Palaver. 

“ Now tell me, sir, just how this thing was,” he said provok- 
ingly to one irascible witness. Just begin at the beginning, 
and tell me all about it.” 

“ I’ve done told you three times, and I’m not going to tell you 
any more.” 

“ I’ll ask you, sir, if the old lady didn’t say she thought it was 
Ankerstrom, but it might have been Kinchen ? ” 

“ No, she didn’t.” 

“Didn’t she say positively at first that it was Kinchen?” 

“ No, she didn’t.” 

“ Then how came you to hang Kinchen ? ” 

“ I didn’t have no hand in it.” 

“ You didn’t, hey ? Well then, sir, who did have a hand in it? ” 


222 


The. K. K. K. 


“ I dunno.” 

“ Wasn’t you there that night? ” 

“ I was standin’ round, jest for curiosity like.” 

“You didn’t take any part in the proceedings?’* 

“ I never teched the nigger from fust to last.” 

“Didn’t you encourage others to hang him?” 

“ I had nothing to do with it, I tell you.” 

“ What was you doing there? ” 

“ None of your business.” 

“What were you doing out from home that night?” 

“ No odds what I was doing.” 

“ You went to bed at the usual hour that night, didn’t you? ” 

“ Yes, I did.” 

“ You got up afterwards and left home? ” 

“ Yes, I did.” 

“ Are you in the habit of getting up out of bed and rambling 
about over the country at night ? ” 

“ No, I ain’t. I tend to my own business and leave other folks 
to tend to theirs.” 

“ You were ‘ ’tendin’ to your business.’ then, when you left home 
that night ? ” 

“ Yes, I was.” 

“ Your business was to go out and help hang Sandy Kinchen? ” 
“ I had nothing to do with it, I tell you.” 

“ Don’t you know you were the foremost man in the crowd that 
night ? ” 

“ Who, me?” 

“ Yes, you.” 

The witness here reared back in his chair, sluck his thumbs 
under his galluses and stared at the lawyer ferociously for a 
few moments. “ Who said that ? ” he inquired of the attorney. 

“ Never mind who said it. I’ll ask you if it isn’t a fact?” 

“ No, it ain’t no fact,” rejoined the witness, exasperated beyond 
all measure. “ It’s a infernal lie, and I can whip the man that 
started it. If you want me I’ll go further than that.” 

“ Well, go further.” 

“ I b’leive,” said the witness, pointing his finger at the lawyer, 
“ you’re the man that started it.” 

Here there was a great guffaw behind the bar, in which the 
attorney-general and most of the lawyers joined heartily. 

“ If the court please,” said Palaver, rising and addressing the 


223 


The Judge Sentences the Prisoner. 

judge with dignity, “ I would like to have this witness respond to 
my questions without indulging in billingsgate here in the court- 
room. It is difficult, if the honorable court please, to make prog- 
ress in a trial when witnesses persist in using disrespectful lan- 
guage toward counsel employed in the case.” 

“ You begun it,” interrupted the witness. 

“ Mr. Sheriff,” remarked Palaver, addressing that functionary 
severely, “ will you please give us order in the court-room ? ” 

The sheriff here tapped the obstreperous witness on the 
shoulder and cautioned him to hold his tongue or he might find 
himself a sufferer from his rashness. The judge hastily folded 
the newspaper which he had been quietly perusing for half an 
hour and lectured the witness soundly for his unbecoming be- 
havior. When this was through Palaver took him in hand again, 
and exasperated him again, and again appealed to the court to 
make him behave. By the time this racket had been worked on 
him a few times the witness was in good fighting trim, and when 
he was finally dismissed he took occasion to pass by the chair of 
Palaver, and informed him in tones not particularly confidential 
that he would like to see him just outside the door when court 
adjourned. The lawyer did not respond at all to this pleasing 
invitation. At the noon recess he left the court-room by a side 
door, walking arm in arm with a brother attorney, and continued 
busily discussing with him some proposition of law until the two 
reached the tavern. 

The trial lasted more than a week, and every inch of ground 
was fiercely contested by the opposing attorneys. Palaver, after 
the admission of the dying declaration of the widow Bascombe, 
fought with desperation. He was a most resourceful man, and 
his genius always shone resplendent when his case was well-nigh 
liopeless. Plis client possessed a countenance that would have 
jusified a jury in inflicting capital punishment upon him if there 
had been no facts upon which to base such a verdict. With the 
damning proof against him here, however, his conviction, to every 
one except his sanguine attorney, seemed a foregone conclusion. 
Day by day the case dragged on. Witness after witness test’fied, 
and when all were through the attorneys in able arguments be- 
fore the jury reviewed the evidence, gave prominence to such 
parts as they wished to bring out, skilfully hid damaging facts, 
placed violent construction upon many plain words in the English 
language, abused and flattered the unfortunates who had been 


224 


The K. K. K. 


called to testify, and on the whole so befuddled the jurors that 
several of these finally were at a loss to know whom they were 
trying, whether the prisoner, the witnesses, or the judge. 

The behavior of Absalom Slowboy during the progress of the 
trial was such as to excite both notice and comment from his 
brother attorneys. On the morning after Miss Bascombe testified 
he came into court with his Sunday clothes on and his hair parted 
in the middle. On the following morning he wore a button-hole 
bouquet and carried on his open countenance a conscious expres- 
sion, which indicated that he thought he was being observed. 
Once while the young lady was on the stand he undertook to pro- 
pound a few questions to her, but was so embarrassed by her calm 
replies that he abandoned the effort in confusion. When it came 
his turn to address the court and jury he forgot himself, and 
made a strong legal argument, but was again, toward the con- 
clusion, nearly knocked off his pins by the discovery that he had 
the close attention of Miss Bascombe. Altogether his deportment, 
while not in the least discreditable, was unaccountable, and perhaps 
in all the crowded court-room there was but one individual who 
thoroughly comprehended the why and the wherefore of his 
singular behavior. That individual, I should perhaps add by way 
of explanation, was not Absalom Slowboy himself. 

All things in this world must have an end, and it came to pass 
after several days of weary forensic struggle that the judge late 
one afternoon delivered his charge to the jury. It was a long 
document, defining the law as to murder in the first degree, 
murder in the second degree, voluntary manslaughter, involun- 
tary manslaughter, excusable homicide, assault and battery, prov- 
ocation, extenuation, justification, malice aforethought, reason- 
able doubt, insanity, delirium tremens, and divers other matters 
having little if any bearing that the jurors could see upon the 
main question at issue. This the learned judge did, not that 
he thought all these things were pertinent to the issue, but that 
frequent reversals by the Supreme Court of the State had brought 
him to the conclusion that it was better to have too much in his 
charges than too little. When he had finished he sent the jury 
to the tavern for the night and adjourned the court. 

The following morning at nine o'clock court met pursuant to 
adjournment, present and presiding, the honorable judge of the 
Twenty-second Judicial Circuit of Tennessee. Whereupon came 
the jury before impaneled in the cause, to wit, John Doe, Richard 


The Judge Sentences the Piisaner. 225 

Roe, etc., and the defendant in custody appeared at the bar of the 
court. 

Palaver and all the attorneys, as well as most of the bystanders 
behind the bar, rose to their feet as the jurors filed into the court- 
room, and stood watching anxiously the face of each member as he 
responded to his name at the call of the clerk. 

“ Have you agreed, gentlemen ? ” inquired the clerk of the 
foreman of the jury when the roll call was finished. 

‘‘We have,” responded the foreman. 

“ What is your verdict? ” 

“We find the defendant guilty in manner and form as charged 
in the bill of indictment.” 

“ So say you all, gentlemen ? ” further inquired the clerk ; and 
each of the other jurors bowed his head in acquiescence. 

There was a slight demonstration of approval from behind the 
bar, which was instantly checked by the sheriff. 

“ Poll the jury, Mr. Clerk,” demanded the attorney-general. 

“ Oh, never mind,” said Palaver. 

“ Poll the jury, Mr. Clerk,” again demanded the attorney- 
general. 

The clerk then called upon each of the jurors by name, and 
each when interrogated declared that he assented to the verdict an- 
nounced by the foreman. 

The law did not demand the precaution of having each juror 
speak for himself, but if this had not been done in the present 
instance Palaver would soon have had the affidavits of half of them 
to the effect that they were not entirely satisfied with the verdict 
as rendered, but would have preferred some other solution of the 
knotty problem before them. Such affidavits are not difficult to 
procure, for in the composition of every jury will be found certain 
good-natured individuals who while in consultation will agree 
to any sort of verdict to oblige their fellows, and when subse- 
quently discharged will sign their names to any sort of paper to 
oblige somebody else. To head off such amiable individuals a 
careful prosecuting attorney will in every grave case require each 
juror to speak out for himself in open court, so that if any one of 
them should consent afterward to alter his verdict he would, as 
Dogberry says, write himself down an ass. 

As soon as the jury was discharged, and while most of the 
members were still in the court-room. Palaver got the ear of the 
court, and asked for a new trial, saying he was utterly astounded 

^5 


^26 


The K. K. K. 


at the verdict just rendered. The jud^^e inquired if he wished to 
argue his motion for a new trial, and the exasperated attorney 
replied that he did not wish to do so at length. He had no other 
objection to urge against the verdict, he said, than that it was in 
the teeth of law and justice. The learned judge at that over- 
ruled the motion for a new trial. Whereupon the lawyer moved 
the court in arrest of judgment, saying his only ground for such 
motion was that the verdict was in the teeth of law and justice, 
and no judgment could be pronounced by the court upon it. 
Whereupon the learned judge overruled the motion in arrest of 
judgment, saying he thought judgment could be pronounced 
upon it, and would be at the proper time. Whereupon the attor- 
ney, having no other motions to fall back on, sat down in his chair 
and glared at the court for a while, and then bent his glance down- 
ward toward the floor like a deeply injured individual who has it 
not in his power to help himself. 

Later in the day Ankerstrom was brought to the bar of the 
court, and the judge pronounced sentence of death upon him. 
Pjilaver by this time had recovered his equanimity, and stood 
close by his client with a confident smile on his face. The voice 
of the judge trembled as he addressed the prisoner, for it is a 
serious thing to look a fellow creature in the face and pronounce 
words which when carried into execution will end his earthly 
existence. To coolly sentence a human being to death is a good 
deal like committing murder in the first degree yourself, and the 
humane judge in this case evidentlv discharged with the utmost 
reluctance the painful task that the law imposed on him. Anker- 
strom, however, stood unmoved, and grinned in the judge’s face 
as in deeply solemn tones he heard his own doom pronounced. 
He had been no doubt buoyed up for the ordeal by his attorney’s 
assurance that the Supreme Court would set aside the verdict that 
had been rendered against him, and he knew at any rate that an 
appeal was his privilege, and that the hangman’s grip would not 
be felt about his throat just yet. Having a little more time on 
earth he could afford to be insolent for the present, and so he dis- 
torted his hideous features into a disrespectful grin, and listened 
as if to the recital of a good joke, when the judge in measured 
words informed him that at 2 o’clock P. M. on a certain Friday 
not far off he would be taken from his cell in the county jail to 
a gallows that would be erected for him, and there hung by the 
neck until he was dead. 


The Judge Sentences the Prisoner. 227 

When sentence had been pronounced Palaver in the blandest 
tone imaginable prayed an appeal to the next term of the Supreme 
Court of Tennessee, which prayer the judge — not having it in 
his power to refuse — was pleased to grant. It was understood 
between counsel that the bill of exceptions would be made ready 
for the judge’s signature by the following Saturday, that being 
the last day of the term, and the prisoner, Ankerstrom, was 
thereupon remanded to jail. 

As he passed out of the court-room in custody of the sheriff a 
little incident occurred which removed the ugly smirk from the 
prisoner’s face and showed him to the crowd as the ill-natured 
brute he was. Pete Kinchen and his little dog were among 
the idlers in the lower hall, and as Jineral Beauregard caught 
sight of his old enemy approaching he first cocked his eye at him 
to make sure he was not mistaken, and then making a sudden dash 
upon him, gripped him with his sharp teeth by the calf of the leg. 
Cross-eyed Jack raised a savage yell and plunged after the dog, 
who had wisely taken to his heels as soon as he tasted his enemy’s 
blood. The sheriff pursued his prisoner and brought him to a 
halt, whereupon the latter stamped his feet, raved, and fell into 
such an ungovernable fit of passion as shocked and astonished 
all those about him. Pete Kinchen retreated precipitately, and 
at a safe distance kept a fearful eye on the brute, but Jineral 
Beauregard fled far beyond the court-house premises, and the two 
friends did not meet again until late that evening, when as the 
negro lad was leaving town a sharp-nosed fox terrier unexpectedly 
joined him in the suburbs. 


228 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

IN WHICH THERE IS MUCH RASH COUNSEL, AND SOME SAGE COUN- 
SEL, FOLLOWED BY A PRUDENT CONCLUSION. 

The territory which comprises the State of Tennessee, like that 
which embraced ancient Gaul, is divided into three parts. These 
are officially recognized by the constitution and statute laws, and 
are there termed the Grand Divisions of the State. All that 
section lying east of the range of Cumberland Mountains is styled 
East Tennessee; that lying between this range of mountains and 
the Tennessee River is called Middle Tennessee; that lying west 
of the Tennessee River is called West Tennessee. The Supreme 
Court of the State is a perambulating body, sitting during the late 
summer and fall months at Knoxville in East Tennessee; during 
the winter months at Nashville in Middle Tennessee; and during 
the spring and early summer at Jackson in West Tennessee. 
When Johan Ankerstrom therefore appealed through his attor- 
ney from the sentence of the circuit judge inflicting the death 
penalty upon him, he by the exercise of this constitutional right 
suspended the execution of the sentence until at least the follow- 
ing December. The Supreme Court did not meet at Nashville 
until the first Monday of that month, and as it would find appeals 
awaiting it from every county in the middle division of the State 
the probability was that the Ankerstrom case would not be reached 
until some weeks later than the first of December, perhaps ncut until 
the spring of the following year, as the court at Nashville usually 
adjourned in April. Cross-eyed Jack could therefore afford to 
draw a sigh of relief when his lawyer informed him that although 
the unrighteous circuit judge might order him to be hung by the 
neck in one brief month from the death sentence, he had it in his 
power, without asking anybody’s leave, to lengthen that month 
into almost, if not quite, a year. Many good people would die 
natural deaths in a year, and Johan Ankerstrom himself, if he had 
been correctly informed, would have to die sometime. Therefore 


Much Rash Counsel, and Some Sage Counsel. 229 

why should he foolishly worry now over a fate which certainly 
would not befall him till nearly a twelvemonth had rolled away, 
and which might never befall him at all. Hope springs eternal 
in the human breast, and the hangman’s grip, which seemed to 
tighten about his throat when he heard the jury’s verdict, now 
grew so lax that he swaggered and grinned as he left the court- 
room, thereby winning for himself with some thoughtless people 
the reputation of being a very courageous sort of fellow. 

Even if the brutal malefactor had been inclined to give way to 
despondency the buoyancy of his sanguine attorney would cer- 
tainly have revived fading hope in his bosom. 

“ I tell you what,” cried Palaver to a group of brother attor- 
neys and others when court had adjourned, “ I wouldn’t have 
had it happen otherwise for the best horse in town. It’s just 
exactly as it should be, and couldn’t have turned out better if I 
had fixed it all myself. It will be next January at the very earliest 
before the Supreme Court can reach this case. Then they are dead 
sure to reverse — they couldn’t help it if they would — and the 
papers will get back down here about next May. The clerk up 
there of course will not send us formal notice of the decision until 
after the minutes of the term are signed, which will be sometime 
in April. Having a lot of this sort of thing to do it will be May 
before he gets to us, so that the case will stand for trial again be- 
fore a jury in this county at the June term next year. By that 
time the prejudice against my man will have died out, witnesses 
and everybody else will have lost interest in the case, and I’ll get * 
an acquittal as easy as winkin’. No doubt about it. Not a bit, I 
tell you ; not a damned bit.” 

“ Suppose, Colonel,” asked a doubting Thomas, “ the Supreme 
Court should affirm the verdict just rendered?” 

“ I’ll suppose nothing of the kind, sir; nothing of the kind, sir. 
Nobody but an infernal fool would suppose anything of the kind, 
sir. Will the Supreme Court of this State eat its own words, sir? 
Will it overturn a line of decisions as long as the history of Eng- 
land, sir?” 

“ Our circuit judge is no fool,” protested the individual who 
was inclined to take issue with the Colonel. 

Colonel Palaver looked cautiously about him before replying, 

” Gentlemen,” he began, lowering his voice to an almost con- 
fidential tone, “ I don’t wish to be disrespectful, but the old man’s 
time is nearly out. Just at present, you see, he would rather be 


230 


The K. K. K. 


reversed by the Supreme Court than bring- down on himself the 
wrath of two or three hundred voters. It’s all right though, gen- 
tlemen — a-11-11 right. If my man was turned loose right now 
these Marrowbone fellows would kill him if they had to tear the 
court-house down to get at him. Next year he’ll go forth a free 
man, and there’ll be none to molest him or make him afraid. 
None to molest him, sir; not one, not one, not one. Not a single 
one, sir; not a damned one, sir. Mark my prediction, sir; mark 
my prediction. The State of Tennessee will board Johan Anker- 
strom another year, and then he’ll be at liberty to go wherever he 
chooses.” 

Teddy McIntosh and Templeton happened to be passing hur- 
riedly through the lower hall of the court-house and heard the 
confident address of the lawyer to the group of bystanders about 
him. That is, they heard the most of it, but left in disgust before 
the lawyer ended, and soon had mounted their horses and taken 
their road homeward. 

Palaver had another auditor, however, who was by no means dis- 
gusted with his remarks, but heard him eagerly, and most atten- 
tively, to the end. This was an old gentleman of brisk manner, who 
being on the outer edge of the assemblage, and little of stature, 
could neither see nor be seen by the speaker. While the lawyer 
was freely giving vent to his feelings, and making confident pre- 
dictions as to what was going to transpire at the. expiration of a 
twelvemonth, the agile old gentleman smiled, and smiled, and 
bobbed up and down like a supple jack, and spread his hands and 
worked his countenance into manifold expressions, all indicating 
hearty approval of the sentiments being uttered. When the attor- 
ney had concluded the little old man was no longer able to work 
ofif his enthusiasm by dumb show, but apparently felt impelled to 
voice his ecstacy. 

“ Hear de vords uff de vise man,” he proclaimed as Palaver was 
leaving the court-house. “ Hear him vot he say, shentlemun, 
for he speak de trute. A leetle vile de vicked vill perrosper. A 
leetle vile dey flourish like de ger-reen pay tree ; den dey gits up- 
thripped and down dey go. But de plessing off Cot vill pe upon 
de righteous man, and in de eend he vill holt his head up and 
valk proud. Mark dat. mine frients, mine coot Kerristian 
frients. It is de eend vot tells de tale. Pay me attention, mine 
coot Kerristian frients. Dis day you may pe in deep throoble, but 
vait for de eend, vait for de eend. Pime-py terreckerly you pe 


Much Rash Counsel, and Some Sage Counsel. 231 

free as de ’appy pird. Zo, mine frients, let effry man pe coot. It 
is de best vay. Let him luff his neighbor and keep all de ten 
coommanderments, and de plessing uff Cot vill pe upon him, and 
de Shuper-eme Court uff de State vill stand py him.” 

As the little old gentleman delivered this heartfelt though 
slightly scattering address, a few of those who heard him whis- 
pered to others that he was the father of the individual that had 
just been convicted, and moreover that ne was a very pious old 
man, highly esteemed in the country from which he hailed. 

Teddy McIntosh and Templeton, as they journeyed homeward, 
fell naturally into discourse upon the long trial, and the appeal 
from the verdict of the jury, and the lawyer’s confident prediction 
as to what the outcome of this appeal would be. They were both 
disheartened at the certainty of another year’s delay, and by the 
strong probability, as they thought, that the murderer of the widow 
Bascombe would eventually escape the gallows. 

“ What’s the use of waiting any longer? ” cried Teddy McIntosh 
impatiently. “ Didn’t you hear what that infernal old lawyer 
said? Another full year must roll round, and at the end of that 
time the chances are ten to one that Cross-eyed Jack will go scot 
free instead of being made to suffer for his devilish deed. Things 
are going to the bad in our country because all the rascals, black 
and white, have concluded they can’t be punished. I say let’s 
prove to ’em that a monstrous crim^ like the murder of the widow 
Bascombe can be punished, and will be punished, if not by lawful 
means then by good citizens outside of the law.” 

“ I’m half inclined to agree with you,” replied IMr. Bob Lee 
Templeton. “ Once I was dead against you fellows for assuming 
to take the law into your own hands, but now I see you have a 
good deal of reason on your side. That was a dreadful mistake 
in the Kinchen matter, but if we’d had our klan organized then 
Kinchen wouldn’t have been hung.” 

“ True enough,” responded Teddy. ‘‘ We did go off half cocked 
that time, as you say, but nobody can accuse us of being in too big 
a hurry if we throttle Cross-eyed Jack a year after the old woman 
he murdered has been put under the ground. His crime has been 
most abundantly proven in open court. Twelve jurors have set on 
him, and pronounced him guilty ; the old judge has sentenced him 
to be hung ; and still, it seems, the law can’t make up its mind to 
choke the wind out of him. I’m ready if the law ain’t, and I say if 
we’re ever going to do anything the time has come for us to act.” 


232 


The K. K. K. 


“ I’m strongly inclined to be with you,” cried Mr. Bob Lee 
Templeton. 

“ When I thought of that baboon-looking devil striking down 
the good old widow Bascombe in the middle of the night, and 
running Miss Sue off to the woods barefooted, I was a mind to 
pistol him right there in the court-house. And I’m a mind now, 
by Jupiter, to make cold meat of the black-hearted scamp just as 
soon as ever, by fair means or foul, we can lay hands on him.” 

“ I’m with you,” cried Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. 

“ Then we’ll get five of our men to sign a petition asking the 
Grand Cyclops to call a meeting of the klan. At that meeting, 
no matter what Ran Pearson may say, we’ll detail a dozen trusty 
fellows to take this murderous Dutchman out of jail and hang 
him. I’ll be one of the dozen.” 

“ How shall we get him out of jail? ” inquired Templeton. 

“ Where there’s a will there’s a way,” responded Teddy. “ If 
folks are in dead earnest they can do most anything.” 

The speaker being in dead earnest it was not many days before 
a request in writing, signed by the requisite number of members, 
was presented to the august individual styled The Grand Cyclops 
of the Klan, asking him to call a meeting of the brotherhood to 
consider business of pressing importance. In about two weeks 
they assembled on the summit of Dead Man’s Knob, and with 
much earnestness debated the question that McIntosh presented for 
their consideration. The remarks made by lawyer Palaver were 
faithfully reported and commented upon witih much asperity. 
There was intense indignation in the community now over the 
law’s delay, and a profound conviction, whether well or 
ill founded, that the verdict recently rendered would not 
be permitted to stand, but would be reversed upon one 
of those legal quibbles which were always available to 
shrewd attorneys who were employed to shield the guilty. 
Even if it was certain, it was urged, that the judgment 
against Ankerstrom would be affirmed it would be much better 
to send him out of the world at once, and thus teach a wholesome 
lesson to other tramps and vagabonds who were prowling about the 
country, and who were fast being educated into the idea that they 
could commit any kind of outrage with impunity. But as it was 
more than doubtful what the decision of the supreme tribunal of 
the State would be, it was certainly incumbent on those who had 
banded together for the suppression of crime to assume the re- 


Much Rash Counsel, and Some Sage Counsel. 233 

sponsibility for the punishment of this guilty scoundrel, and not 
wait a year longer in the hope that the law might at the expiration 
of that time see fit to execute its own mandate. 

Pearson and his two coadjutors listened gravely while speedy 
action was being urged, and so vehement was the demand that the 
klan should not procrastinate longer, that it was difficult for the 
three judicial officers to stem the torrent of indignation and an- 
nounce unequivocally that they would give their sanction to no 
action in the Ankerstrom matter until after the decision of the 
Supreme Court. Trying as the delay had been Pearson was de- 
cidedly of opinion that the murderer of Mrs. Bascombe should 
not be taken from the custody of the law and hung by an irre- 
sponsible body of men until it was plainly demonstrated that pun- 
ishment would never be administered through the regular legal 
channels. He deemed it inexpedient, however, to proclaim such a 
determination just now, and after a somewhat protracted con- 
ference with his colleagues announced it as their joint conclusion 
that a committee of three discreet persons be appointed, whose 
duty it should be to ascertain all the surroundings of the 
prison where the murderer lay confined, and further, after 
investigation, to devise means by which — if such course 
should be subsequently determined upon — the klan might 
obtain control of the person of the prisoner to the end 
that he be properly dealt with. Pearson further said it 
was a very grave step they were about to take, or that 
they were considering the propriety of taking, and he himself 
would as speedily as possible make inquiry of certain of his ac- 
quaintances well versed in the law, and get their opinion of what 
the decision of the Supreme Court in the case probably would be. 
He was inclined to think that little weight should be attached to 
the braggadocio talk of the lawyer employed to save the prisoner 
from the punishment so richly deserved, but before he spoke with 
assurance on this point he would like to be better informed than 
he was at present. In the meantime the committee suggested 
might make thorough investigation, and be prepared to report at 
a subsequent meeting of the klan, so that if any action was then 
determined upon it might be prompt and efficient. 

This conclusion, or advice, was by no means satisfactory to the 
impatient men who now longed to wreak vengeance on Anker- 
strom, but they accepted it, as it pointed to a time not far distant 
when summary action would be taken, and also set a few of their 


234 


The K. K. K. 


number to the work of preparing the way for such action 
whenever it was determined upon. Pearson was convinced 
that their wrath would be in a measure appeased if he 
could postpone the time for announcing a positive con- 
clusion, and could set a few of them at work in the 
interim, and thus his main purpose in making the sug- 
gestion for a committee of investigation was accomplished. 
The Grand Cyclops appointed a committee of three, with Teddy 
McIntosh at the head, and the klan adjourned to meet again a 
month later at a point different from the one at which most of 
their former meetings had been held. Some whisperings had gone 
abroad concerning the assembling by night of men and horses on 
Dead Man’s Knob, and it was thought advisable, at least for a 
while, to shift the place of rendezvous to some other spot situated 
farther back in the recesses of the Marrowbone Hills. 


Lawyer Slowboy Displays Great Shrewdness. 235 


CHAPTER XXV. 

LAWYER SLOWBOY DISPLAYS GREAT SHREWDNESS AT THE HORSE 
MARKET AND THEN CALLS UPON A LADY ACQUAINTANCE. 

One soft summer evening when the moon was at its fullest and 
brightest, Miss Sue Bascombe had left the dwelling whicn was now 
her home, and gone for a quiet stroll down the shady and winding 
road that led away from the premises. Daylight had not as yet 
died away, but the risen moon shed such a splendor from the east 
that its rays were fast gaining the ascendency over the fading 
gleams which the departed sun was still struggling to cast from the 
opposite horizon. 

Sue was not of sentimental turn, but she could not fail to be 
impressed, as she wandered alone through shade and softened 
light, with the surpassing beauty of the surrounding scene. From 
some not distant wheat-field the rich note of the partridge came, 
lamenting perhaps that the ripened grain above its nest had been 
cut and its little ones scattered abroad to seek safety. Blending 
with this mellow call the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, that 
lover of the twilight, rose so near as almost to startle her while 
passing close to a thicket of tangled undergrowth that skirted her 
path. She paused here, and stood hesitating whether to continue 
her walk or leturn to her dwelling, when she heard the sound of 
a horse’s feet in the distance. The house in which she dwelt stood 
a half mile or more from the main highway, and she knew that the 
approaching rider, whoever he was, must draw rein at her own 
door, for the course he was pursuing could lead him nowhere else. 
She was a quick girl, and so well acquainted in her own locality 
that she k’^ew the step of nearly all the roadsters thereabout. She 
bent her ear now to detect if possible what particular animal it was 
coming toward her, but for a while was puzzled to determine. It 
was not Ran Pearson’s horse, for ttie usual gait of that animal was 
a running walk, while this quadruped was certainly pacing, and 
pacing very deliberately. It was not the saddle nag of Teddy Me- 


The K. K. K. 


236 

Intosh, for Teddy nearly always went in a canter when he wasn’t 
riding faster. It was not a little negro on a mule, such as were 
frequently sent on errands from neighboring farms, for this was 
no mule’s gait, and besides these persistent youngsters always 
clucked loudly as they came along. 

The dim figure of the approaching steed could now be discerned 
a little way off, and Sue after scanning it as best she could con- 
cluded the rider must be some old lady of the vicinity who was 
thus pacing in leisurely fashion toward her on a gentle farm nag. 
She was at a loss, however, to conjecture what particular old lady 
it could be, and what urgent call could take her away from home 
at this unseasonable hour, and — as country folk are usually a little 
shy — she stepped a few feet off from the roadside so that she could 
inspect the equestrian on nearer approach without being herself 
observed. As the new-comer drew nigh, and was about passing 
the spot where she stood in the thick shadow of the foliage, the 
ambling steed suddenly got a glimpse of her and shied so abruptly 
that the rider, taken unawares, tumbled to the ground. Sue then 
saw that it was not an old woman but one of the masculine species, 
and as the discomfited individual arose from the earth and began 
brushing his trousers legs with his hand, she was astonished to find 
standing before her the youthful attorney who had taken notes of 
the evidence in the Ankerstrom case, and had made, as she thought 
at the time, quite a sensible speech in behalf of the prisoner. Sue 
Bascombe was a youthful female of ordinary acuteness and she 
had not failed to discover during the progress of the long trial that 
the eyes of Mr. Slowboy were frequently upon her, and that they 
were usually admiring glances which he cast in her direction. She 
had noticed while she was on the witness stand that he from time 
to time suggested queries to Palaver to be propounded by the lat- 
ter gentleman to her, and at one stage of the investigation, by con- 
sent of the attorney-general, he, Slowboy, had himself directly 
interrogated her with the view of drawing out more fully some 
point that he thought should be impressed upon the jury. After 
that he usually bowed to her when he came into the court-room 
after recess, and when he met her on the street, but beyond these 
mere formal courtesies their acquaintanceship did not extend. 
That she would afterward encounter him alone by twilight in the 
heart of the Marrowbone Hills did not enter at the time into her 
contemplation, nor was it at all among her thoughts on this oc- 
casion until he awkwardly tumbled from his saddle before her eyes. 


Lawyer Slowboy Displays Great Shrewdness. 237 

What any other young lady would have done under the cir- 
cumstances 1 am not prepared to tell you. What Sue Bascomhe 
did was very natural, though perhaps not very polite or very 
kind under the circumstances. She threw back her head and 
laughed so heartily that she might have been heard three hun- 
dred yards away at the dwelling house, if matters had been quiet 
in that quarter. 

Mr. Slowboy at once left off brushing his breeches leg and 
shied almost as. vigorously as his nag had done a minute before. 
The young lady, perhaps concluding that she had been guilty 
of an uncivil act, now stepped into the open roadway, extending 
her hand graciously toward the embarrassed guest. “ Why, Mr. 
Slowboy,” she said. “ Who’d have thought it ? ” 

“ I wouldn’t,” replied Slowboy with commendable candor, 
but forgetting to raise his own hand in response to her prof- 
fered courtesy. I assure you I was not expecting it at all.” 

At that Miss Bascombe did a second time what perhaps was 
very natural, but not very kind or very civil. She laughed 
again so heartily that she was compelled to bend forward quite 
low as she did so. Then- recovering herself she straightened up 
and again extended her hand. “ You must excuse me,” she said 
to the confused visitor, “ but really one does not see a feat of this 
sort performed very day. I was not laughing at you, Mr. Slow- 
boy. I was laughing because — you understand ” 

“ I do not understand,” replied Slowboy positively. “ I as- 
sure you I do not. Have the kindness to explain yourself.” 

“ Catch your horse and I will,” replied the young lady, who 
by this time was mistress of her emotions. 

Slowboy went after the animal, which was standing patiently a 
few yards away, and Sue Bascombe had a few moments for re- 
flection. “ As we seem to be going the same way, suppose we 
walk together,” she said when he returned with his horse. Then 
she bent her steps homeward, the gallant youth proceeding by her 
side. 

“ You said you were not laughing at me,” said Slowboy by way 
of opening up a conversation. 

“ Yes, I said that,” replied Miss Bascombe. 

“ Have the kindness to explain then what you were laughing 

at.” 

“ There is a difference, as no doubt you can see,” replied the 
damsel, “ between laughing at an individual to his face, which 


The K. K. K. 


238 

would be very rude, and laughing at a ludicrous occurrence with- 
out reference to the individual that happened to take part 
m it.” 

“ Your distinction is not well taken,” said the attorney. If 
a ludicrous mishap befalls an individual, and you laugh at the 
mishap, you necessarily laugh at him, for he is of necessity so 
connected with the mishap that the one cannot be separated from 
the other.” 

“ I do not see it that way,” replied Miss Bascombe dryly. 

” I can demonstrate the correctness of my position to your sat- 
isfaction,” responded Slowboy. “ If the individual had not been 
connected with the mishap there could have been no mishap. 
You cannot carve — legally speaking — two separate and distinct 
things out of the one transaction. The individual by himself, it 
may be assumed, would not be provocative of mirth. Being on 
horseback, however, and unexpectedly losing his balance, he is 
constrained to assume an attitude which, it may be conceded, is 
the reverse of graceful. Catching the eye of a beholder in this 
unbecoming posture the beholder breaks into a loud laugh. Now, 
it is too plain for argument that the merriment is at the expense 
of the unlucky individual. You cannot be heard to say, nor 
by any sophistry can the position be maintained, that it was not 
the man, but the misfortune that befell him, which provoked the 
mind of the beholder to mirth.” 

“ Well, then, I laughed at you,” replied Sue. “ But if you had 
not assumed the ungraceful attitude I would not have laughed, so 
after all it was your fault and not mine.” 

” Not so, not so,” rejoined the attorney. “ Laughter, or any 
expression of enjoyment, is never excusable when based on the 
suffering or misfortune of another. An Indian will laugh at, 
and dance round, the victim who is being burned to death at the 
stake. He gloats, so to speak, on the pain his fellow creature is 
compelled to endure. When a civilized man or woman laughs 
at a painful accident that befalls one of the human species, it is 
a lingering trace of barbarism in his or her nature that excites 
to mirth and extracts a pleasurable emotion where only sym- 
pathy should be felt.” 

“Well, then,” replied Sue, “I did wrong in laughing at you, 
and I ask your pardon.” 

This mild admission on the part of the young lady had the 
double effect of soothing the mortified vanity of Mr. Slowboy, 


Lawyer Slowboy Displays Great Shrewdness. 230 

and putting an extinguisher upon the struggling conversation. 
The lawyer, while studious and inclined to cogitation, was not 
colloquially gifted, and moreover when he essayed the role of 
beau he was venturing upon entirely new ground. I say the role 
of beau because any person of ordinary discretion who peruses 
this chronicle will understand that Slowboy on the present occa- 
sion had not stumbled accidentally upon the dwelling place of 
Miss Bascombe, being a chance wayfarer in that vicinity, but 
had directed the steps of his pacing nag toward her habitation, 
if not — as the lawyers say — with malice prepense, at least after 
mature deliberation and premeditation. To be sure, later on in 
the evening he explained to her that being in Nashville on legal 
business, and having there purchased a valuable and trustworthy 
animal for family purposes, he had concluded to ride through 
to his home on horseback, rather than ship his new purchase by 
rail and travel himself by the same conveyance. This was what 
he said, and Sue, being a girl of no little gumption, understood 
precisely how much truth there was in the story and how much 
fabrication. 

The fact was Solomon Slowboy had planned the whole neat 
scheme in his office before ever he left his place of abode. 
Sitting musingly there one afternoon, when he should have been 
studying his book, he had artfully invented a smooth pretext for 
visiting the girl who had drawn such a creditable diagram on the 
dirty court-room floor and had explained all the lines and dots 
thereof with such mathematical precision. This scheme he had 
contrived all out of his own head and had successfully executed 
up to the point of tumbling from his horse, which feat, I need 
not explain to the reader, was no part of the original pro- 
gram. 

At the moment when the author side-tracked his narrative for 
the above interesting digression Miss Bascombe and. Mr. Slow- 
boy, as will be recalled, were walking slowly down the grassy 
country road that led to the residence of the former. The horse 
had shied, Mr. Slowboy had come to grief, the young lady had 
laughed aloud, the lawyer had become a little incensed, suitable 
apology had been made, and his mortified vanity had been 
soothed. So far so good, but meantime the particular vein of 
talk they had been following was exhausted, and if it had de- 
volved on Mr. Slowboy to open and follow up another, the con- 
versation itself must have utterly perished. This fact becoming 


240 


The K. K. K. 


painfully manifest after a few minutes’ walk, the party of the 
second part — to wit, Miss Bascombe — relieved the growing em- 
barrassment by propounding the following query : 

“ Mr. Slowboy, how’s your mother?” 

“ She is, I thank you, in the enjoyment of her usual health,” 
replied Slowboy. “ How did you know I had a mother ? ” 

“ Oh, that was easy to tell. You came into the court-room the 
first day of the trial with your coat and hat neatly brushed, so I 
knew some good woman was looking after you. You spruced 
up considerably when you found a young lady among the wit- 
nesses, so I saw you wasn’t married. And one day I noticed a 
pleasant-faced middle-aged lady regarding you with fond admira- 
tion from behind the bar, and I set her down at once for your 
mother.” 

“ You were right,” cried Slowboy with enthusiasm. “ It was 
my mother, and the very best mother, I venture to say. Miss Bas- 
combe, that ever a man had upon this earth. Why, you would 
grow tired listening if I should undertake to tell you just how 
much my mother does for me every hour in the dav, and every 
day in the week, and every week in the year. She not only 
brushes me up every morning so as to make me look spruce — 
that is, of course, you know. Miss Bascombe, as spruce as such a 
person as I can look — she not only does that, but when I go home 
of evenings I find my slippers ready for me, and my studying 
gown, which she made with her own hands, and if it be at all 
cool or damp there is, you may depend upon it, a snug fire in 
the grate. My mother is a very active person, a. very active per- 
son indeed for one of her years — and she’s not so mighty old 
neither — and what with dusting, and cleaning, and looking after 
the cook — we keep a cook now — and doing a thousand other 
things, she never has an idle moment, I can tell you.” 

So Mr. Slowboy went on, and it was soon evident that Sue’s 
query — which at first blush might have seemed mal a prop os — 
was the very thing to set him going, and to keep him going until 
he warmed up, and wore off his reserve, and was ready for ra- 
tional discourse on other and general topics. By the time they 
reached the house they had grown to be almost chummy, and so 
promptly did ideas rise up in the mind of the young lawyer, and 
so readily did those ideas find utterance in language, that the 
family sitting out on the front porch wondered what glib-tongued 
Stranger it was nearing the premises. Sue introduced him as her 


Lawyer Slowboy Displays Great Shrewdness. 241 

friend Mr. Slowboy, and he shook hands all round with ease and 
grace, and was no more embarrassed, I assure you, than you or I 
would have been, who of course have been used to genteel com- 
pany all our days. 

After supper — for come they strangers or come they kin, 
there is free entertainment for man and beast at nearly 
every old-fashioned Southern farmhouse — Mr. Slowboy was 
ushered into the company room of the mansion, where he 
found the walls liberally decked with pictures of General Lee and 
Stonewall Jackson and other mighty men of valor who have 
passed away from earth after earning for themselves, by deeds 
of prowess, the gratitude of posterity. Then followed discourse 
of a rational and improving nature, dashed now and then with 
a little chit-chat for seasoning. There was some bantering — 
for close friends, you know, can afford to be a trifle free at each 
other’s expense — and toward the close of the evening a little 
serious talk that verged on the sentimental. Mr. Slowboy, who 
was deep and hard to circumvent, skilfully probed the young 
lady’s mind to ascertain in the most delicate way possible whether 
this or that individual, of whom he had heard talk, stood partic- 
ularly high in her estimation. He incidentally lugged Mr. R. L. 
Templeton into the conversation, and was pleased to learn that 
this youth was considered rather light-headed and frivolous, and 
moreover was desperately in love with a certain Polly Haber- 
sham, who dwelt a half dozen miles away. After making a con- 
versational circuit, so as to take the mind of the young lady en- 
tirely away from this and kindred topics, he came round again, 
and this time learned, without her ever having suspected what he 
was up to, that Teddy McIntosh was kind-hearted and a frolick- 
some boy, but just only a boy, you know. Thirdly, and lastly, 
after another considerable detour he managed to introduce 
smoothly and naturally into the talk the name of Randolph Pear- 
son. He found here that there was really no apparent interest at 
all. Mr. Pearson stood well among the neighbors, and was no 
doubt a correct man in his business dealings, but he was dread- 
fully set in his ways, and of late years getting to be quite a re- 
cluse. A man, said Miss Bascombe, might live by himself, and 
for himself, so long that he would lose not only all relish for the 
companionship of others, but all fitness for such companionship, 
and to this sad complexion Randolph Pearson had come at last. 

Thus Mr. Slowboy, who, as the reader has perceived, was much 


242 


The K. K. K. 


more artful than a body would have thought to look at him, man- 
aged to ascertain precisely the trend of the lady’s mind in all these 
important particulars, and at about ten o’clock concluded to bring 
the pleasant evening to a close. He had heard his mother say 
that when you called on a yo.ung lady it was both bad manners 
and bad policy to remain long enough to weary her, and therefore 
he wisely determined to withdraw while — as the saying goes — his 
credit was up. When he heard the premonitory click of the clock, 
serving notice upon him that it proposed presently to strike the 
hour of the night, and looking up saw the long finger qn the dial 
creeping close to the figure lo, he rose from his seat, and remark- 
ing that he had no idea it was so late, extended his hand with the 
view of bidding the .young lady gaod-by. 

“Why,” said Sue, “ you are not going to leave us to-night? 
We don’t call it a visit in the country unless you have taken at 
least two meals with us, and had a good sound nap under our 
roof.” 

“ As for the meals,” responded Slowboy gallantly, “ I’ve had 
one, and that convinces me thoroughly of your excellent house- 
keeping; and as to the slumber, or nap as you term it, under 
your roof. I’m not quite sure that I would sleep much if I were 
to remain till morning.” 

“ Indeed ? ” responded the young lady. 

“ Because,” pursued Slowboy, “ it is a well-understood fact 
that pleasurable emotions tend to excite the mind, and thereby in- 
duce a state of alertness, instead of that sense of composure which 
lulls the faculties into slumber.” 

“ Very true,” replied Sue, “ but it’s twenty-seven miles to 
Coopertown, and surely you’re not going that far to-night ? ” 

Then the visitor informed her that he had business at a little 
cross-roads town -a dozen miles farther on, and as the moon was 
bright, and the night pleasant, he had resolved to ride that far 
on his journey, dispatch the matter in hand next morning as soon 
as the folks were astir, and then proceed homeward before the 
heat of the sun made the day oppressive. 

“ You know the road? ” inquired th.e young lady. 

“ I have but to get back into th-e beaten highway which runs 
within a half mile of your house, and following that I cannot get 
lost.” 

“ It will take you across Paradise Ridge, and over some very 
rough country.” 


Lawyer Slowboy Displays Great Shrewdness. 243 

“ I can travel it,” replied Slowboy. ‘‘ Don’t forget I was 
country raised.” 

Sue seemed to hesitate a while, then she inquired : “ Mr. 

Slowboy, have you a pistol ? ” 

“ No indeed,” replied the attorney. It’s against the law to 
go armed.” 

Sue Bascombe : “ Yes, I know it, but a man traveling these 
hills at night ought to have a pistol. Self-preservation is the first 
law of nature. 

Solomon Slowboy : “ Why, you don’t think there’s any real 
danger, do you ? ” 

Sue Bascombe : “ I can’t say whether there is or not. But 
curious tales are told about these hills, Mr. Slowboy.” 

Solomon Slowboy: “What for instance?” 

Sue Bascombe : “ Why they say all manner of things. They 
tell some tales that would make your hair rise right up on your 
head. But I don’t want to excite you, as you are going to ride.” 

Solomon Slowboy, stoutly: “ Yes, I’m going to ride, and I ex- 
pect to encounter nothing more disheartening than the loneliness 
of the route.” 

Sue Bascombe, hesitating again: “ Well, I hope you are right, 
Mr. Slowboy. But I ought to tell you there are rough men in 
these parts. And I ought to tell you, Mr. Slowboy, that strange 
sights have been seen along the very road you are going to travel. 
I’m not superstitious, but one can’t utterly disregard statements 
made by reliable witnesses. Once upon a time not very far from 
here the Bell Witch played some most remarkable pranks ; and 
they tell me that sometimes about midnight on lonely roads up in 
the Marrowbone Hills witches, ghosts, hobgoblins, what you 
choose, can be actually seen and heard performing some sort of 
ceremony that no human being understands.” 

Solomon Slowboy : “ Why, you are not afraid of ghosts, are 
you ? ” 

Sue Bascombe : “ I can’t say I’m afraid of them, but still many 
unaccountable things do happen, Mr. Slowboy. Spiritualism has 
many intelligent believers in this great country and elsewhere. 
You’ve read of Lord Brougham’s case, haven’t you? ” 

Solomon Slowboy: “Yes, yes. Just an overheated imagina- 
tion.” 

Sue Bascombe : “ Maybe so. Then there was the Bell Witch 
in this very neighborhood. It disappeared many years ago, but 


244 


The K. K. K. 


some folks think it has come back and brought other spooks 
along with it. I tell you what, Mr. Slowboy, if I was going your 
road to-night, I’d slip a pistol in my pocket, law or no law.” 

Solomon Slowboy : “ What good would a pistol do in case of 
spooks ? ” 

Sue Bascombe : “ In case of interference it w.ould enable you 
to tell whether the thing obstructing your way was human or not. 
You are going a lonely road, and I’ll lend you my pistol so that 
you may be prepared for any emergency.” 

Solomon Slowboy : “ Do you keep a pistol ? ” * 

Sue Bascombe: “ Why, to be sur-e. You don’t suppose a girl 
would live up li^re in the Marrowbone Hills and not keep a pis- 
tol, do you ? ” 

With that she left him, and proceeding up the stairway was 
absent several minutes. When she returned she handed him a 
small Smith & Wesson, which she assured him was accurate. 
Slowboy, thinking he might encounter some danger along the 
road, accepted it and dropoed it in his side pocket. 

“ Put it in your hip pocket,” said Miss Bascombe. It’s 
handier to get at there.” 

Slowboy made the necessary transfer, and his lady friend 
further instructed him. “ If you have to shoot,” she said, “ re- 
member to raise your pistol high and pull trigger as it lowers 
as soon as the object in front darkens your view. Be perfectly 
steady, and keep your forefinger on the tip of the trigger. That 
will make it go off easy.” 

‘‘ You understand it, I see,” replied the guest. 

“ Indeed I do,” said Sue Bascombe. ‘Mf I’d had a pistol the 
night of the terrible tragedy at our house you would never have 
been employed as counsel for Ankerstrom.” 

Solomon Slowboy looked at her admiringly. “ She’s a brave 
girl,” he thought. “ She’d have made a noble wife for one of the 
early pioneers of this country when the Indians were prowling 
around.” Then he looked at her again. ” She’s very hand- 
some,” he thought. “ She wouldn’t make a bad wife for Solo- 
mon Slowboy, if mother was willing to the match.” 

When he got to the door Sue handed him a sealed envelope, 
with no direction on the back. Instead the figure of a human 
hand had been drawn upon it in red ink, the thumb and little 
finger closed, the other three fingers extended. “ I reckon you’ll 
think I’m foolish,” she said, “ but this paper contains a charm 


Lawyer Slowboy Displays Great Shrewdness. 245 

that my aunt’s grandmother said was powerful against witches. 
If you do not have occasion to use it you must mail it back to me 
as soon as you reach home. If you get in serious trouble on the 
way say a short prayer over to yourself and hand this paper to 
the next who approaches, human or hobgoblin.” 

Solomon Slowboy looked at her again, and her face was quite 
serious. 

This is very singular,” he remarked. 

‘‘ I know it is,” replied Sue Bascombe. 

He took the .paper and placed it in his side pocket. I will 
mail it back to you to-morrow morning from home,” he said. 

‘‘ Don’t fail to do it,” was her reply. 

Then he shook hands with her very cordially, and she invited 
him to come back again. He promised her faithfully to do so, 
and Solomon Slowboy was a person who usually meant what he 
said. When he went out into the night Sue Bascombe locked the 
front door behind him and took her way upstairs, humming a 
quiet tune to herself. 


246 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XXVL 

MR. SLOWBOY TRAVELS A LONELY ROAD BY NIGHT, AND SOON FINDS 
HIMSELF IN DECIDEDLY QUEER COMPANY. 

Solomon Slowboy, chewing the cud of pleasing fancy, paced 
for an hour or more along the moonlit highway that led to the 
cross-roads village where it was his purpose to obtain lodging for 
the night. The route he was now pursuing ran up and down hill, 
but on the whole was not so difficult to travel as he had appre- 
hended from the description of Miss Sue Bascombe, who had 
warned him that he would be compelled to journev through a 
rough country. The obstacles in his path were less noticeable 
too, he concluded, from the fact that the gray mare under his sad- 
dle was sure-footed and evenly gaited, and as she bore him 
smoothly onward he became more thoroughly convinced that he 
had driven a good bargain when he purchased her. 

The fact was — as I think I took occasion to remark in the last 
chapter — Solomon Slowbow was a much shrewder person than a 
body would have supposed to look at him. When he went upon 
the horse market at Nashville with the view of making an invest- 
ment, he was not content, as many a blundering ignoramus would 
have been, to close a trade for the very first plug he came across. 
Instead of that he kept looking and making inquiries until he 
finally laid eyes on a certain gray mare in a certain stable that 
seemed somehow to suit his fancy. When the dealer saw him 
viewing the gray mare with a critic’s eye he came forward and re- 
marked to Slowboy politely that he observed he was a fine judge 
of horseflesh. “ Forty men,” said the dealer, “ have passed that 
mare without special notice to-day, but you discerned that she was 
a very superior animal as soon as ever you entered the stable.” 

“ Why, so I did,” replied Solomon Slowboy, pleased at the com- 
pliment to his penetration. “ These other forty gentlemen you 
speak of had of course the right to consult their own takes 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 247 

when they went upon the horse market, but I was struck with this 
animal here just as soon as I examined her points.’’ 

“ Well, you have taken a fancy to about the best horse in the 
stable,” said the dealer, “ and it’s a fine thing you happened along 
on this particular day of all days in the year.” 

“ How is that ? ” inquired Slowboy. 

The dealer then informed him confidentially that the gray mare 
was the property of a gentleman in the vicinity who was in great 
stress for money, and was willing therefore to part with her at a 
ruinous sacrifice. By waiting another twenty-four hours the gen- 
tleman might hope to get almost double what he now asked for 
the animal, but the money had to come on the very day which, 
as luck would have it, Slowboy had selected for his visit to Nash- 
ville. Slowboy next inquired if a lady could ride the mare with 
safety, informing the dealer that he had a mother at home, who, 
though not an accomplished equestrienne, liked to take little horse- 
back jaunts to the country now and then. As luck would have it 
again the gentleman who was in great stress for money had a 
maiden aunt whose habit it was to take a long ride every day on 
the back of Martha Washington — that was the mare’s name — and 
who even now was making a frantic endeavor to pawn her valu- 
able diamond ring rather than part company with the cherished 
animal. 

Slowboy at this felt some scruple about robbing the lady of her 
treasure, but the dealer reminded him that somebody would be the 
purchaser that day, and that he had as well be the lucky man as 
another. To make a long story short, the lawyer then purchased 
the gray mare without more ado, and though the figure was 
higher than he expected — seeing the mare was being disposed of 
at a ruinous sacrifice — he paid the dealer’s demand in spot cash, 
and a short while later was pacing out of the capital city of the 
state astraddle of Martha Washington, and seated moreover in a 
brand new saddle which creaked so loudly as he went that it some- 
what embarrassed him. He proceeded homeward with the gray 
mare and the creaking saddle, till he reached the abode of a cer- 
tain damsel in the hills, and, after a pleasant intermission there, 
was again pacing, as we know, leisurely along his homeward road. 

Now, as Solomon Slowboy went on and on, up hill and down 
hill, he thought of his estimable mother, and could see her in lbs 
mind’s eye walking round and round Martha Washington, ad- 
miring the symmetry of her limbs, and having the old family 


The K. K. K. 


248 

side saddle strapped to her back to see how it fitted. As he thus 
mused he thought of the ugly trick the mare had played him that 
evening in unseating him right in the presence of a lady, and won- 
dered if she might not cut some such caper when his esteemed 
mother was atop of her. Then he remembered the criticism 
which Miss Sue Bascombe had passed on herself for hiding out in 
the bushes close to the roadside when a rider and horse were pass- 
ing, and thought how generous it was in her to assume 
the entire responsibility for the mishap instead of saddling 
a considerable share of the blame, as she unquestionably 
might have done, upon himself and Martha Washington. 
Miss Bascombe having been brought thus naturally to the 
front, his imagination dwelt fondly for a while upon her 
many graces of mind and person. He congratulated him- 
self on his shrewdness in eliciting from her, without her 
ever having suspected his purpose, the important information 
that she was heart whole and fancy free, and ventured to cherish 
the hope that after his own acquaintance with her had fully 
ripened perhaps the same could not be truthfully said of her. 
Then he went over again, for he had an excellent memory, all the 
little incidents of the pleasant evening that had just closed, the 
profound remarks submitted by Solomon Slowboy, her apprecia- 
tive responses, and just precisely how she looked when he said 
this or that. We are told that when fancy makes the feast it 
costs no more to have it fine, and it was a delightful entertainment 
indeed to which Solomon Slowboy treated himself as Martha 
Washington paced evenly along the moonlit highway upon that 
balmy summer night. 

When he had gone over the enjoyable features of his visit 
again and again, and the exquisite pleasure of recalling 
them was somewhat dulled by repetition, he bethought him 
of the singular conversation that had passed between himself 
and the maiden just as they were on the eve of leave-taking. What 
did a sensible girl like Sue Bascombe mean by all this talk about 
ghosts? How did she happen to find out about the mysterious 
experience of Lord Brougham, who in his autobiography records 
the fact that he encountered the ghost of a departed friend in his 
bath-room, just as he was rising, divested of his raiment, from the 
tub? And this confounded Bell Witch, too, that she had lugged 
into the conversation ; strange tales had been told concerning that 
spook, or whatever it was. Strange tales, strange tales. Slowboy 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 249 

had heard them from his mother, who had heard them from her 
mother, who was a good church member, and in the matter of the 
Bell Witch knew whereof she spoke. How curious it is that such 
wild tales should obtain credence and pass for truths among sen- 
sible people ! But when one came to think of it there really was 
no clear dividing line between the knowable and the unknowable, 
the natural and the so-called supernatural. The ghosts of which 
we have so many well authenticated instances may all have been 
conjured up by diseased imaginations, but who can say some of 
them were not real visitants, permitted for a special purpose to 
return to the walks of men ? “ There are more things in heaven 

and earth, Horatio, than are dreamed of in thy philosophy.” 

By this time Martha Washington had put several miles of road 
behind her, and the route was through a more broken country 
than any Slowboy had yet traversed. Streams became more fre- 
quent, and often the road ran up the bed of one of these. Now 
and then a deep hollow formed part of the way, and almost pitch 
darkness reigned here, for the moonbeams could not penetrate 
through the thick canopy of leaves and branches that closed in 
overhead. Slowboy was by no means a coward, yet he could not 
help feeling a little nervous when he found himself groping 
through a silent wood alone, and far away, as well as he could 
determine, from all human habitation. Once or twice he fancied 
he heard some one riding behind him, and checked Martha Wash- 
ington to ascertain whether such was really the case. Either there 
was no one on his track, he discovered in each instance, or the 
person who was following him stopped whenever he did. Now 
he reached better ground, where there was a little help from the 
moonlight, and was pushing his way more briskly along this when 
he was startled by a deep groan that came from the roadside a few 
feet in front of him. He at once brought his mare to a dead stop 
and waited in the highway to listen. A second time the groan 
came, and it was evidently the groan of a human being, and one, 
too, in great agony. Slowboy advanced cautiously a short distance 
and halted again. A third time he heard the groan, and it was un- 
mistakably the plaint of some poor expiring wretch not immedi- 
ately on the roadside, but a little way off in the wood. 

“ Whoever you are,” cried Slowboy in the darkness, “ Fm ready 
to help you if you stand in need.” 

Nothing but silence greeted this friendly offer, and Slowboy a 
second time lifted his voice in the darkness. 


250 


The K. K. K. 


“ You seem to be in distress. Fm ready to help you if I can.’^ 
Then he heard the deep groan once more, followed by a very faint 
voice from the wood : “ Come, for God’s sake.” 

Without more ado Slowboy pushed his mare into the wood and 
endeavored to reach the spot from which the voice proceeded. 
Soon both he and his mare became entangled in the long green 
creeping briars that twine so luxuriantly among the trees and 
branches in that part of the country. Martha Washington plunged, 
scratched herself and rider, then retreated rather precipitately back 
into the road. Nothing daunted in his praiseworthy resolve Slow- 
boy dismounted and tied her to a limb which he could dimly dis- 
cern, for it was not pitch dark in the highway. This done he 
started on foot into the wood and penetrated a short distance 
cautiously. “Where are you?” he cried to the unknown indi- 
vidual whom he was seeking to reach. 

“ Here,” responded a weak voice only a few steps off. 

He made his way to the spot from which the sound proceeded, 
but could find no trace of the wounded man whose desperate con- 
dition he was seeking to relieve. He stood and listened, but not a 
sound near him could his strained ear catch ; not even the heavy 
breathing of a creature in distress. He waited in dead silence for 
a few moments, and then in some trepidation lifted his voice again. 
“ Where are you ? ” he inquired softly. 

A dismal groan came in response to this inquiry, but the crea- 
ture that uttered it was now some distance off, and, as he could tell 
by the sound, on the opposite side of the roadway which he had 
left. Alone in a dark wood, in a strange country, and subjected 
to such an experience, it is useless to say that the lawyer felt nerv- 
ous. Still, he said to himself, it must be the prank of some foolish 
practical joker, and without further effort to discover the individ- 
ual he had gone to seek he made his way with considerable diffi- 
culty back to the road. As he reached the shadowy highway he 
detected the dim outline of his mare close at hand, and, approach- 
ing nearer, was astonished to find there was a man in the sad- 
dle. 

“ Ahem,” ejaculated Slowboy, after standing a few seconds ir- 
resolutely in the highway. 

The man who had usurped his place sat upright in the saddle, 
maintaining perfect silence. There was, as said, a little glimmer 
of light in the road, arid by its aid Slowboy could see the face of 
him who bestrode Martha Washington. It was as white as a piece 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 251 

of chalk, and the head was held so erect that the countenance of 
the stranger was directed apparently toward some object in the 
distance considerably above the level of the earth. The individual 
who thus ignored the lawyer’s presence was also, as Slowboy 
could tell on slight inspection, very slim of figure, and the tallest 
person he ever remembered to have met. 

As the attorney stood in the road and silently gazed at the mys- 
terious tall man sitting in his saddle the case of Lord Brougham 
came back to his mind, but he could not recall having made a 
compact with any friend by which the first of the two who shuf- 
fled ofif this mortal coil should return to earth and make himself 
known to the other. It occurred to Slowboy also as being a little 
singular that Martha Washington remained so perfectlv quiet with 
a spook in the saddle. Then he reflected that the spook, if such it 
was, had no specific gravity, and therefore Martha Washington 
probably was not aware of the fact that there was anything at all 
atop of her. As he turned over these matters in his mind the tall 
man with the very white face reached out a very long arm and 
slowly beckoned Slowboy to draw nearer. At the same moment 
Martha Washington turned, and at a deliberate gait walked off 
down the road. The tall man in the saddle continued to beckon 
to Slowboy, thereby indicating plainly enough that it was desired 
he should follow after. 

Solomon Slowboy was no coward, nor was he a man to lose his 
head in a sudden emergency. When he saw the mare walking 
away he was strongly tempted to pull the pistol which Miss Bas- 
combe had loaned him, and take one crack, hit or miss, at the rider 
who had so coolly appropriated his property. Then he reflected 
that this rider, whether human or diabolical, had not made any 
such demonstration against him as would justify a deadly assault 
on his part ; and moreover that — whatever might be his character 
— he almost certainly had associates near at hand who would take 
part in any affray that might arise. Reflecting thus he refrained 
from drawing his pistol, and his next impulse was to take to his 
heels and leave Martha Washington for the remainder of her 
life in the hands of the taciturn stranger who seemed to have taken 
such a violent fancy to her. This impulse also he rejected, not 
only because he deemed such a course would be unbefitting a brave 
man and a rational creature, but upon the further consideration 
that they would be almost certain to catch him if he ran. The long 
arm of the stranger continued to beckon as Martha Washington 


The K. K. K. 



proceeded slowly down the road, and Slowboy, resolved to see the 
end of so curious an adventure obeyed the behest and followed 
after. Upon the supposition that the stranger was human his con- 
duct was utterly unaccountable ; upon the supposition that he was 
not of earth’s mortal mould, it might be conjectured that he had 
business of importance with the attorney, the nature of which he 
was not permitted to communicate except at a certain spot and in a 
certain way. Upon either supposition all that remained for Slow- 
boy to do was to follow on with as stout a heart as possible and 
await developments. 

The unknown rider proceeded at a gentle walk for a short dis- 
tance along the same route that Slowboy had been pursuing ; then 
Martha Washington diverged to the left, and presently began to 
climb a rugged hill that rose a little way off from the highway. It 
was not very steep, and soon the summit was reached, and the gray 
mare began to desc*end upon the other side. The lawyer followed 
without difficulty, for he could not only hear her footsteps, but 
could distinguish her figure dimly in the darkness. At the top of 
the hill he halted as if uncertain whether to follow longer, but the 
gray mare halted too a few steps in advance, and he fancied he 
could see the long arm of the silent rider beckoning him to ap- 
proach. When he started again the mare started, and he resolved 
to display no more hesitation, but to win if possible the good will 
of the mysterious being ahead by obeying its summons with alac- 
rity. They were now again in a dense wood, and the lawyer 
pressed close upon the heeh of the mare for fear of k)smg sight 
of her. It was not many minutes before they began descending a 
deep hollow with a high ridge on either side. Leaving this the 
mare picked her way slowly up. the rough acclivity on the left, and 
as she did so Slowboy observed that the space above and imme- 
diately in front of him was illuminated by a faint ruddy light. 
Reaching the summit of this ridge they descended abruptly into 
a circular basin, from the bottom of which, as Slowboy could tell, 
the reddish light proceeded. The stranger mounted on the gray 
mare went forward at a quicker gait, and the lawyer stumbling 
and keeping his eye on the animal and her tall, lank rider, suddenly 
found himself in the midst of a circle of strangely clad beings in 
human form, who, with dejected heads, sat in silence around him. 
The red light disappeared as he came to a halt at the tail of Mar- 
tha Washington, but the space at the bottom of the bowl was 
free from timber growth of any kind, and the open sky above shed 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 253 

an uncertain glimmer about the place. The moon was behind the 
high ridge to the right ; its beams, however, increased the bright- 
ness of the sky at the zenith, and the reflected light made more dis- 
tinct objects immediately beneath. 

The singular creatures by whom Slowboy found himself sur- 
rounded were arrayed for the most part in white habiliments, 
though some were draped from head to foot in deep black. Many 
were short of stature, while not a few were as tall as the long, slim 
figure that still sat immovable upon the back of Martha Washing- 
ton. xA.s Slowboy looked dubiously from one to another of his tac- 
iturn associates he was surprised to see his erstwhile conductor 
take ofif his head and rest it carelessly on the pommel of the saddle 
before him. At this most of the other tall figures around him took 
ofif their heads and rested them quietly in their laps. A deep, dis- 
mal groan now arose from the headless creature in the saddle, and 
was taken up and prolonged by his ghostly associates. The gray 
mare here hoisted her head, flung up her tail and snorted in fear 
and suspicion. It was the first time she had displayed any emo- 
tion, and Slowboy was glad to note that she was as much im- 
pressed by the proceedings as he was. It made him feel that what- 
ever befell he had sympathetic company. 

Up to this moment not a word had been spoken, except the few 
brief syllables uttered by the creature in the wood, whom Slow- 
boy had been unable to find. Now there came from one beyond 
the group in deep, hollow tones, that made him shiver : 

‘‘ Rash mortal, what wouldst thou here among us ? ’’ 

Not being able to ascertain from what source the voice ema- 
nated, and not being assured that he himself was directly ad- 
dressed, Slowboy maintained what he deemed to be a discreet 
silence. 

“ Rash mortal, what wouldst thou here among us ? ” came a 
second time the* voice, which the lawyer could not precisely locate, 
but which he was quite sure did not proceed from any one of the 
individuals whom he saw grouped around him. He could not 
doubt upon reflection that the query was addressed to him, since 
he was the only one of those present whose habiliments indicated 
that he wished to be classed among human creatures. 

“ I came,” the attorney replied in a tone as firm as he could mus- 
ter, “ at the beck of him who sits on horseback here before you. I 
know not why he summoned me to your presence. 

‘'Why didst thou summon this mortal to our presence?” de- 


254 


The K. K. K. 


manded the voice in a tone of offended dignity, presumably ad- 
dressing" now Slowboy’s singular escort. 

The being on the back of Martha Washington, who up to this 
moment had held his head on the saddle pommel before him, now 
replaced it on his shoulders, twisted it round a time or two as if to 
screw it tightly to his body, and then responded in measured tones 
that harrowed Slowboy^s soul : 

He is a 1-a-w-y-e-r.” 

At this announcement the whole assemblage groaned most dis- 
mally, and each member of the circle shook his head so violently 
that Slowboy expected to see several pates drop off and roll upon 
the ground before him. Finally they all rose as if by common 
consent, and, joining hands, began to skip and spin round him and 
the gray mare, uttering a low and monotonous groan or mournful 
humming noise as they did so. 

Being utterly unused to such proceedings, the lawyer observed 
them closely and busied his mind with endeavoring to determine 
the significance of their capering. It was evident that the fact of 
his being a member of the legal fraternity had made a powerful 
impression upon them. As they spun round and groaned, the red 
light again made the atmosphere lurid above them and gave them 
more the appearance of demons than they had borne before. The 
gray mare, greatly excited, raised her head, flung up her tail, and 
spun round and round in her place as if with some wild idea of 
keeping them company. Slowboy took a firm grip on his mind 
and made a desperate effort to retain his composure, which he 
found under the circumstances to be no easy job. 

When the excitement was partly subsided the voice in the rear 
pronounced in a tone of inquiry the syllables Law-yer,” and the 
tall being on the back of Martha Washington responded a second 
time in the most melancholy accent: “ L-A-W-Y-E-R.” At this 
the wild creatures in the circle, as if the intelligence was more 
than they could bear with equanimity, whirled round more rapidly 
than at first, and their moan grew into a howl <that could have been 
heard a half-mile away. The tall being in the saddle, who seemed 
to have some sort of control over them, now lifted his long arms 
and motioned them all to be still. Without a word each member 
of the circle dropped back to his place, and, seating himself on the 
earth, hung his head in dejected silence. 

Then came again the sepulchral voice that proceeded from none 
of the group about him. ** Out of a thousand lawyers there may by 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 255 

accident be discovered one good man. See if this mortal here be- 
fore us comes under the rule or the rare exception.” 

Then four tall figures stepped forth from their places in the cir- 
cumference of the circle and approached Slowboy, who stood ap- 
prehensively in the center. Each of the four held in his hand what 
seemed to be a keen sword of not less than seven feet in length, and 
so bright that the blade glistened in the glimmering light of the sky. 
While the lawyer watched these figures with intense interest the 
tall man in the saddle leaned forward and suddenly dropped over 
his head and shoulders a wide black bag, which completely ob- 
scured his view. He was thus left in total darkness, but could 
hear the stealthy tread of those approaching him with uplifted 
weapons and the low moan that was now resumed round the 
circle. 

“ Mortal,” proclaimed the melancholy voice once more, “ the 
test to which you are about to be subjected will show us whether 
you are to be classed with the nine hundred and ninety-nine 
abominable lawyers that should not be permitted to cumber the 
earth, or whether you are the thousandth man who by some piece 
of ill luck has stumbled upon a calling that no honest human 
being would deliberately choose.” 

Then was heard a scraping and rasping, as if the weapons were 
being sharpened preparatory to some fearful test. 

“ Mortal,” remarked the voice, “ our attendant hobgoblin will 
now take you by the arm and lead you forward. At the third, sev- 
enth and eleventh steps I warn you to lift high your left leg and 
proceed with extreme caution, for you will then be surmounting 
the keen sword of vengeance that will surely gash your unworthy 
flesh if you are not in rectitude of soul far above the average law- 
yer. If you stand this crucial test we will take you to our confines 
and release you with the admonition to forsake your calling ere we 
meet again. Should blood be drawn, or should you flinch from the 
test, or cry out in perturbation of spirit, it will be convincing proof 
to us that you are an unrepentant and incorrigible member of the 
despicable fraternity of lawyers, and you shall surely die the 
death. Attendant hobgoblin, lead the mortal on.” 

As Slowboy stepped forward he could not help feeling agi- 
tated by the rasping sound of the long swords stroked against each 
other to sharpen their edges. He kept in his mind, however, the 
fact that he would only encounter these dangerous weapons at the 
third, seventh and eleventh steps of his progress, and resolved to 


The K. K. K. 


256 

lift his left leg so high, and feel his way so cautiously, as not to re- 
ceive hurt if ’twas possible to avoid it. His strange companions 
had chosen to hang the issue of life or death on this preposterous 
test, and while their conduct in doing so was absurd, Slowboy was 
compelled to admit to himself that it was not without precendent. 
Wager of battle had been frequently resorted to by them of old 
time to decide important issues, and learned judges — if his law 
books were to be credited — had on divers occasions caused old 
women to be cast into deep water to determine whether or no they 
were witches. The lawyer therefore, through whose trained mind 
these precedents passed hurriedly, did not deem it an unheard-of 
thing that his wild captors, devil or human, should choose to sub- 
ject him to the ordeal through which he was now to pass, and let 
the question as to whether they should murder him or free him be 
determined by his ability to lift his left leg to a required height at 
a critical moment. 

As the attorney set out he took two firm steps, and those around 
him maintained profound silence. At the third step they raised a 
dismal groan, which was accompanied by some kind of doleful 
wind instrument that he had not heard before. He lifted his left 
leg slowly as high as he could, advanced it cautiously over the fear- 
ful weapon he was convinced must be thereabouts and set it down 
safely upon the other side. Three more forward steps were then 
taken in silence. Again the mournful howl was set up, and the 
wind instrument resumed its plaint, and again with the black bag 
over his head the lawyer surmounted the sword of vengeance. The 
strain upon him was fearful, but he knew that his life was at stake, 
and summoned up all his fortitude as he approached the eleventh 
step of his progress. The groaning was now redoubled, an occa- 
sional shriek rent the air, and the wind instrument sent forth a 
wilder wail than ever issued from the throat of a catamount. He 
became perplexed as to whether he had reached the tenth or elev- 
enth step of his way, but in desperation raised his left leg to a 
height he had not before reached and extended his toe cautiously 
forward in the darkness. As he made this supreme effort he was 
supported by his right foot on tiptoe, and could not have main- 
tained his balance but for the clutch of the attendant hobgoblin 
upon his arm. While he paused thus in the midst of the confusing 
hubbub, of a sudden something like the talon of a bird of prey 
gripped him by the calf of the leg on which he stood, at the same 
moment the attendant let go, and, stumbling heavily forward, he 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 257 

fell to the earth. As he did so the black bag either dropped or was 
snatched from his head, and, struggling in confusion to his feet, 
he saw the whole array of hobgoblins gesticulating and leapinp” 
about, apparently in ecstacy. Martha Washington had been re- 
moved to the outer edge of the circle, but was still in view with the 
headless spook sitting motionless in the saddle. The groans and 
the wail of the wind instrument reverberated through the neigh- 
boring hills, and the red glare flared over surrounding objects till 
the whole appeared to the lawyer’s excited imagination like a 
scene from the lower region. 

The headless horseman now lifted his long arms and once again 
all was still. Then from the omter darkness the sepulchral voice 
was heard : “ Mortal, the infallible test proclaims thee to be 

neither better nor worse than others of thy despicable calling. 
This night it is decreed thou shalt leave the earth upon which thou 
are not fit to dwell. As talking is thy trade, however, thou mayest 
speak a few last words before the hobgoblin executioner severs thy 
head from thy vile body.” 

Finding in this permission some slight opportunity to plead his 
own cause, Slowboy cleared his throat and made bold to address 
the singular creatures by whom he was surrounded. 

“ Gentlemen, or wild men, or whoever you be,” he began, “ I 
have to inform you at the outset of my remarks that I no more 
consider you hobgoblins than I consider myself a hobgoblin. I 
have serious doubts in my mind as to whether there be any such 
creatures as hobgoblins in the established order of things about us, 
but waiving this point I am convinced you cannot be classed among 
such beings, for, unless I am much mistaken, I have seen to-night 
the breeches legs of two or three of you sticking out from under 
the curious attire you have seen fit to assume for the occasion. I 
say this not for the purpose of criticizing your make-up — which 
I admit to be creditable — but because it becomes necessary here 
for me to fashion my argument either upon the assumption that 
you are mortals like myself, or that you are whimsical creatures of 
the upper air upon whom in all likelihood both argument and en- 
treaty would be wasted. If you spent your time in matting horses’ 
tails, causing cream to sour, and performing other like mad pranks, 
I could not hope to reach you by any appeal to your reason, but 
proceeding upon the theory that you are human creatures I ask 
you what you have to gain by murdering me to-night down here 
at the bottom of this sink-hole? I say murdering me because, 

17 


The K. K. K. 


258 

while 3'OU may perhaps claim that 3’ou have vouchsafed me some 
sort of a trial, I can convince you in a moment, if you will pay at- 
tention to what I say, that you are wdiolly in error on this point. I 
do not deny that at one period of our history matters of life and 
death were decided .by tests as unreasonable as that to which you 
have just subjected me, but I call your attention to the fact that in 
every such instance the charge under investigation was one that 
if sufficiently proven was punishable with death by the law of the 
land. Now, here there is no charge against me at all, or if at all, it 
is of such trivial nature that no judge could pronounce sentence 
upon it if I had been formally declared guilty by a sworn jury in 
the court-house. The only accusation I have heard is that in the 
first place I am a lawyer, and in the second place I am no better 
than the great majority of members of my calling. You need not 
have required me to step over keen-edged swords to establish the 
truth or falsity of such averments, for I cheerfully concede that I 
am a lawyer, and I lay no claim to being in any way better than 
the thousands of great and good men who in every age have 
adorned my profession. Why should any man, my friends, think 
less of me because I am a lawyer? ‘ You will defend any scoun- 
drel for money,’ one will say. So I will ; and will not the doctor 
physic the same scoundrel for money if he fall sick and send for 
him ? The doctor, you say, has nothing to do with the moral char- 
acter of the man. Neither have I. If he has not violated the stat- 
ute law of Tennessee, or that wise compilation of our British an- 
cestors known as the common law, I have a right to ask that he 
walk out of court a free man, and if he go forth a black-hearted 
scoundrel we caii do nothing more than leave Omnipotence to deal 
with him.” 

At this one of the spectral auditors groaned aloud, and rising, 
flourished his arms about wildly for a few seconds. Giving no 
heed to the interruption Slowboy proceeded with his argument. 

“ ‘ But,’ another may say, ‘ you keep your cases in court an un- 
conscionable length of time, and thereby defeat the ends of justice.’ 
I have just reminded you, my friends, that I have nothing to do 
with the ends of justice. If I take my client’s money as an honest 
man I must give my client the benefit of my services. If by the 
use of proper legal methods I can at any time help him to avert 
present danger, it is my duty to do so. Will not the doctor, if the 
patient be at death’s door, exert all his professional skill to prolong 
life in the hope that some favorable turn at last may enable him to 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 259 

save the case ? And if I find conviction about to overtake my man 
in the courts shall I not postpone the evil hour as lon.s;" as possible 
in the hope that after a while some important witness against him 
may die, or many of those relied on by the prosecution may grow 
tired tramping to court, and thus I may be enabled in the end to ob- 
tain a verdict in his favor? ” 

Here the speaker was interrupted by a second deep groan, and 
several of the hobgoblins rose and gesticulated furiously in appar- 
ent disapproval of his utterances. A good lawyer is always more 
intent on winning his case than on making a creditable argument, 
and Slowboy when he heard this second ominous groan deemed it 
wise to steer his course in a somewhat different direction from that 
which he had been pursuing. 

“ Perhaps, my friends,’’ he continued as soon as good order was 
in a measure restored, “ this is not the occasion upon which to press 
the point I have been endeavoring to make clear to your minds. I 
will dismiss it for the present and remind you — since the sole ac- 
cusation against me here is that I am a lawyer — of the great num- 
ber of members of my fraternity who in different countries, and at 
different periods of the world's history, have been esteemed the 
noblest men of the age in which they lived. General Jackson was 
a lawyer. President James K. Polk, of Tennessee, was a lawyer. 
Governor Bob Taylor is a lawyer. The immortal Thomas Jef- 
ferson was a lawyer. And if you will cross the ocean with me, 
and travel back over the past you will find that the best, and truest, 
and most useful men in all the long procession of the centuries 
have followed the calling which you are so ready to-night to pro- 
nounce a despicable one. When the Saviour of the world had been 
unjustly crucified and his timorous apostles had all forsaken Him 
and fled, who was it that bravely fronted the murderous Jews and 
claimed his precious body for decent burial? It was Joseph of 
Arimathaea, a lawyer, who performed this heroic act, and shall it 
be said of you that two thousand years later, in a Christian land, 
you killed a man for no other crime than that of being found in 
such good company ? ” 

At this the whole posse of hobgoblins arose with one consent 
and began skipping and whirling round Slowboy like mad. He 
had evidently, to use a homely phrase, put his foot in it again, and 
must now be prepared to accept without delay the disastrous con- 
sequences. The headless rider on the back of Martha Washington 
after a few minutes stilled the tumult by raising his long arm, and 


26 o 


The K. K. K. 


Slowboy, having no heart to proceed further, stood in the midst of 
the strange group awaiting his doom. 

“ Wretched lawyer,” cried the sepulchral voice from the outer 
darkness, “ thy tongue hath failed this once to screen the guilty, 
nor art thou now before a tribunal where sentence for thy mis- 
deeds can be indefinitely postponed to await the pleasure of the 
criminal. This night, this moment, shalt thou feel the fearful 
sword of vengeance. Hobgoblin executioner, away with such a 
fellow from the earth.” 

A lank creature with an uplifted sword of frightful length now 
advanced menacingly upon him. A cold, bluish flame lit up the 
scene, that imparted to the figures of the group and other objects 
a weird and ghastly complexion. Nearer and nearer drew the lank 
form of the hobgoblin executioner ; the long blade of his weapon 
shimmered in the ghastly light, and the miserable attorney uncon- 
sciously bowed his head as though to receive the impending stroke. 
As he leaned forward toward the earth the missive which the girl 
had given him a few hours before slipped from his side pocket and 
fell to the ground. In an instant he recalled the words she had ut- 
tered on placing it in his possession, and taking it hurriedly be- 
tween his fingers he presented it to the headsman, who was now 
close upon him and about to strike. 

As he took up the paper the gaunt hobgoblin paused. On the 
back of the envelope there was, as said, no inscription, but instead a 
human hand had been cleverly drawn in red ink, the thumb and lit- 
tle finger closed, the other three fingers extended. The lawyer had 
noticed this hand when he placed the letter in his pocket, but had 
not deemed it of special significance. The creature with the long 
sword, however, as soon as his eyes fell upon it lowered his wea- 
pon, and with visible agitation took the envelope from the hand 
of the attorney. He then backed swiftly to the outer edge of the 
circle and beyond his associates, into the outer darkness. Here 
he remained for what seemed a considerable length of time. 
Slowboy stood in painful suspense, while those grouped in a circle 
about him were manifestly disturbed from some cause. At last 
came again the voice from the darkness, but this time in a softer 
tone : 

Mortal, thou mayest live. It is so decreed by one whose man- 
date we dare not disobey. Drain the horn of fellowship with the 
mystic clan and go thy way.” 

Again the scene was lit up, first by red and then by the ghastly 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 261 

blue light. A more jovial sound was echoed around the circle. 
Sharp cries of animals were imitated, the hoot of the horned owl 
was heard, and other grotesque noises startled the night. Large 
drinking horns were then introduced, filled with some kind of 
liquid and drained again and again by the members of the disor- 
derly group. One more fantastically arrayed than any he had yet 
noticed now approached Slowboy, bearing in his hand a drinking 
vessel, which looked like the crooked horn of an old ram. This 
was filled to the brim, and the lawyer, who had no wish to offend 
his new-found friends, without hesitation raised it to his lips, and 
dared not take it away till the last drop was down his throat. He 
began his task with confidence, as he had seen the others imbibe 
so freely, but he came near being strangled before he finished his 
potation. He was compelled to swallow slowly, as the horn was 
crooked and deep, and distinctly tasted — as he afterward avowed — 
peach brandy, corn whisky, persimmon beer, hard cider, and pep- 
per sauce, as the mixture slid down into his bowels. When he had 
finished he handed the ram’s horn back to his obsequious attend- 
ant and did not ask for more. 

The confusion about Slowboy now rapidly increased, and many 
of the hobgoblins displayed a disposition to become hilarious. The 
creature on the back of Martha Washington waved his arms in 
a frantic way, but none of his subjects paid any attention to 
him. The mare herself, as if pleased with the turn affairs were 
taking, raised her head and sent forth a cheerful nicker that en- 
couraged the soul of the lawyer. The whole scene by this time was 
beginning to swim round him, and he was fast lapsing into that 
condition when — to use a boyish phrase — he didn’t care whether 
school kept or not. At this moment the voice, somewhat unsteady, 
was heard once more addressing itself to him : 

“ Mortal, canst thou not use thy tongue in bidding thankful 
adieu to thy hobgoblin friends ? ” 

Slowboy, while recognizing his unfitness for the task assigned 
him, now braced himself for a supreme effort. 

“ Suttinly, gen’lemun,” he began. “ Appy, I ’shure you ; ’appy 
to Stan’ ’fo’ you on this aus — aus — auspishus ’cashun. Am indeed, 
I ’shure you. Give you my word, gen’lemun, gen’lemun — shury, 
never been so drefful ’appy befo’ in all my born days. Thas-er- 
fack. As to that wot I said ’bout Shoseff Arrymarthuer, ’twuz all 
damn foolishness, an’ I take it back.” 

At this candid retraction the enthusiasm of the hobgoblins broke 


262 


The K. K. K. 


bounds, and they crowded about him to grasp his hands and to 
offer him liquor. His legs, however, had been growing alarmingly 
weak for some minutes and they now failed him altogether. With 
a sickly smile, and a deprecating wave of the hand, he rejected the 
invitations to swallow more ghoulish drink, and, sinking to the 
earth, stretched himself out with as much composure as if he had 
been at home in bed. How long he laid there, and who carried 
him off, he could never tell. When he woke the sun was shining 
brightly overhead, and he was lying only a little piece off from the 
main highway with Martha Washington tied to his leg. 

Crawling feebly into his saddle, Mr. Slowboy pursued his jour- 
ney homeward. As he went he reflected. Halting at the first 
stream on his route he washed his face, drank copiously, and, re- 
mounting, rode on and reflected again. What connection was 
there between Miss Sue Bascombe and the hobgoblins? If none, 
how did it happen that the letter of the former had such an aston- 
ishing effect upon the latter? But then she loaned him a pistol 
which he might have used with deadly effect if be had chosen. In 
some apprehension he here felt for the pistol and found it safe in 
his hip pocket. He examined it carefully and found that all the 
leaden balls had been drawn, leaving only charges of powder in 
the cylinders. This was a very singular piece of business. The 
hobgoblins certainly had not withdrawn the balls before he fell 
into a stupor, and why should they have chosen to do so after- 
wards? Was it possible that the young lady had purposely given 
him a harmless pistol when she had reason to suppose he would 
fall into such dangerous company on his route? Mr. Slowboy 
rode on and reflected, but the more his mind dwelt on the subject 
the more puzzled he became. He was conscious of a very decided 
headache which probably had something to do with his inability 
to solve the problem in hand. When he reached home he went 
to bed and fell asleep again. It was not until nearly noon of the 
next day that he walked languidly to the office of Palaver & Slow- 
boy, and undertook to give an account of himself. 

The account which Slowboy gave of his adventure with the hob- 
goblins in the Marrowbone Hills, and his explanation of what he 
there saw and experienced, was not satisfactory to himself, and, 
therefore, it could not be supposed that it would be entirely sat- 
isfactory to others. Some said he got on a tear in Nashville, and 
had a plain case of the jim-jams on his way home. Other some 
that, as was the case with the Apostle Paul, much study had in- 


Mr. Slowboy Travels a Lonely Road by Night. 263 

dined him to madness. His mother and most of the old ladies in 
the community were firmly of the opinion that he had encountered 
a legion of devils in the God-forsaken hill country, and I desire 
to go on record here as affirming that in my judgment the conclu- 
sion they reached was based upon evidence of a highly persuasive 
nature. It is quite true that up in the neighborhood of the as- 
tounding transactions just narrated, the report gained credence 
that the whole thing was a job put up on Lawyer Slowboy by one 
Teddy McIntosh. It was there whispered around that Teddy 
somehow got wind of Slowboy’s visit to Miss Sue Bascombe, and 
resolved to waylay the lawyer on his road home and give him 
some idea of life in the knobs. It was further whispered that the 
young lady above mentioned was informed of Teddy’s plan, and, 
wishing both to aid him and keep him within the bounds of mod- 
eration, she loaned Slowboy a pistol with v/hich he could hurt no- 
body, and at the same time intrusted him with a sealed paper that, 
presented in the nick of time, would prevent his being handled 
too roughly by her friends. Such a report, I say, gained credence 
in the neighborhood of the occurrence, but it was too preposterous 
to merit serious consideration, and I am sure the intelligent reader 
will give little heed to it. The facts were exactly as I have stated 
them, and about all that can with assurance be said of them is that, 
taken all together, they present a dark problem, which neither you 
nor I nor Mr. Solomon Slowboy will ever be wise enough to 
solve. 


264 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

MR. BOB LEE TEMPLETON DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF AT THE 

WOODPILE. 

Lest the reader should rashly conclude that nobody but Solomon 
Slowboy could ride the road in the parts of which this narrative 
treats, I take pleasure in stating that one Bob Lee Templeton, in 
the county aforesaid, and at or about the time heretofore men- 
tioned, was frequently observed galloping up and down the high- 
ways and whistling to himself as if compelled to thus give vent 
to his cheerfulness. If his horse’s head was turned toward the 
heart of the Marrowbone Hills he usually rode rapidly and drew 
rein about nightfall at the front gate of Major Habersham. When 
proceeding in the opposite direction he traveled more slowly, and 
whistled a softer tune, but a look of supreme satisfaction still 
abode with him. He never recovered the valuable animal that 
was stolen from the Habersham premises, nor did he get back 
his liberal subscription for the six Bibles that were to have 
been delivered a few weeks later and were not. These untoward 
accidents, however, by no means engendered in his mind a preju- 
dice against the Habersham house or the innocent members of 
the Habersham family. He continued his visits as before, and all 
through the pleasant summer and the still more delightful fall 
weather haunted the Habersham residence as persistently as if 
he had been a Yankee bill collector and the Major had been bad 
pay. By this time, you may depend upon it, Mr. Templeton was 
so well versed in affairs of state and the principles of true 
democracy, that he could have given points to Grover Cleveland. 
He had also spent so many hours in the improving society of 
Miss Polly Habersham that he knew tolerably well how to behave 
himself in the company of ladies. 

There is a very old tradition which teaches us that unwedded 
human creatures, like the birds of the air, usually do their billing 
and cooing in the month of May ; and the greatest of modern Eng- 


Mr. Templeton Distinguishes Himself. 265 

lish poets has sung to us in mellifluous verse that — “ In the spring 
a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” In oppo- 
sition to this high authority, however, I venture to record it as my 
conviction that the heart of the average young man is tenderest 
and most susceptible to blandishment in the falling of the year. 
The springtime, of which we hear so much, is slushy and disa- 
greeable, and the farmer lad, when not breaking ground for corn, 
is wheezing and sneezing in the efifort to rid himself of the dread- 
ful cold that the winter has fastened on his constitution. When 
the fall comes round, however, his crops have been laid by, the 
earth is dry enough to make it firm underfoot, the heat of summer 
is abated, and the foliage in my part of the world has taken on a 
hue that is gorgeous and beautiful to see. He who hath a soul 
must feel that soul expand beneath such influences, and if more 
were needed to turn his mind toward the other sex there is a frosti- 
ness in the morning and evening air that makes him rather choose 
to seek a mate than shiver in loneliness through the coming winter. 

It was perhaps for the reason, or reasons, so clearly stated above, 
that Mr. Bob Lee Templeton turned up more freauentlv at the 
Habersham mansion as the autumn advanced than he had done 
during the preceding sultry months. The hazy Indian summer — 
which was now at hand — cast a spell over him, and his thoughts 
became so attuned to that dreamy season of the year that a deli- 
cious peace slid into his soul, and he felt blissful all the while with- 
out precisely understanding why. It came about one evening in 
the late fall that Mr. Templeton as usual was making himself at 
home under the hospitable Habersham roof, and his horse — fa- 
tigued from an all-day journey — was contentedly resting its limbs 
in the Habersham stable. It was about nine o’clock. The Major, 
being compelled to read several speeches in the Con^^ressional 
Record, had retired from the sitting-room, and Mrs. Habersham, 
who, though of delicate constitution, always did her endeavor to 
entertain genteel company, had taken up some light work on which 
she fancied she had been engaged, and followed her husband’s ex- 
ample. Thus left alone the young people, of course, did their best 
to get along without outside assistance. The conversation flowed 
smoothly' and naturally enough for a while, and everything be- 
tokened that the evening on the whole would be a success, when all 
of a sudden, before anybody could have suspected that a calamity 
was impending, the chips gave out. The fire had burned very 
brightly and cheerfully for a while, then the blaze got lower and 


266 




The K. K. K. 


lower, then it flickered — the blaze did — as if it hated to give up, 
but was bound to give up ; then it went out and came back again, 
and went out and came back a second time, and tried to cl’mb 
a little wreath of smoke, and failed in the attempt, and disap- 
peared entirely, and that was the very last of it. 

“ Laws a mussy,'’ cried Miss Marie — better known as Polly — 

laws a mussy, look at that.” And she went up to the big fire- 
place and took the tongs in her hand and poked about in the em- 
bers, and heaped little particles of wood together, and tried to 
make the blaze come back, but it wouldn’t come back, or couldn’t 
come back, I don’t know which. Anyhow it didn’t. 

Now, tha’t is too bad,” cried Miss Marie, looking down into 
the fireplace with a vexed expression of countenance. I told 
that boy as plain as I could speak always to leave some kindling 
here by the mantel, to be used in case of necessity, and now he’s 
gone off and hasn’t left a scrimption. Everybody knows that a big 
fire will burn right off if you once start it, but a slow fire is liable 
to give up and quit at any time.” 

‘‘What must be done?” inquired Templeton, who, from the 
young lady’s manner, was impelled to the conclusion that some- 
thing of a discouraging nature had transpired. 

“ There is but one thing to be done,” replied Miss Marie, heav- 
ing a gentle sigh. 

“ What’s that ? ” 

“ We must go to the woodpile for chips ; there’s no help for it.” 

“ Oh,” ejaculated Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, who, you may de- 
pend upon it, could see as far into a millstone as the next man. 

The young lady here crossed her hands in front — she was stand- 
ing near the fireplace — and looked at Mr. Templeton demurely. 

“ There’s no help for it,” she repeated, “ unless ” 

“ Unless what? ” 

“ Unless we adjourn this meeting, which, in my opinion, is the 
wisest thing we could do.” 

“ Never,” cried Mr. Templeton, firmly. 

“ Why, let’s reflect upon the subject a moment,” argued the 
young lady. “ It’s now past nine o’clock, and ” 

“ A motion to adjourn is not debatable,” interrupted Mr. Tem- 
pleton. “ Besides, there’s an important matter to be settled before 
we close the meeting.” 

“ What’s that ? ” ^ 

“ There’s the subject we discussed last Thursday night, which 


Mr. Templeton Distinguishes Himself. 267 

by all parliamentary rules should come up this evening under the 
head of unfinished business. You remember, don’t you? ’’ 

The young lady shook her head gravely. “ Can’t say I do,” she 
replied. 

“ Last Thursday night, as we sat over yonder on that sofa by the 
wall.” 

She shook her head again. Her memory must have been singu- 
larly obscure or he was romancing. 

“ When I made a certain emphatic declaration and you replied, 
' Nonsen.se.’ I then repeated it, and you looked down and didn’t 
reply at all.” 

Her face took on a puzzled look. “ Can’t say I remember any- 
thing about it,” she answered. 

“ When I looked so earnestly into those heavenly eyes, drew a 
little closer before you were aware of it, and ” 

She threw up both hands at once. “ I’m going to the woodpile 
for chips,” she cried. 

Bob Lee Templeton sayeth, ‘‘ I go with you.” 

Under a narrow stairway that ran up on the back porch there 
was a closet for odds and ends. Out of this she fished a basket 
of the split-bottomed variety, very strong, and especially adapted 
to the carrying of chips. Running her arm through the handle of 
this she placed her father’s old slouch hat on her head and set 
forth upon the expedition to the woodpile. “ It does seem,” she 
remarked despondently to Mr. Templeton as they went along, 
” that I have more bad luck than any other girl in the world. 
Here we were doing well, weren’t we? Just had settled down to 
have the nicest kind of a time, when all of a sudden the chips gave 
out. Now we actually have to leave the house and go out in the 
dark to rake up chips. Isn’t it provoking?” 

“ It’s bad,” replied the young gentleman, “ and no mistake. But 
we must summon up all our fortitude and endeavor not to let the 
unfortunate incident cast a gloom over our spirits.” With that he 
whistled the snatch of a tune to show he wasn’t gloomy. 

” Don’t whistle,” she said, reprovingly. 

“ Why ? ” 

“ Because you might call the dog from round the house. And, 
moreover, you might disturb my father and mother, which would 
be wrong in you.” 

“ On to the woodpile,” cried Mr. Templeton, in a subdued tone. 
“ I’ll be good.” 


268 


The K. K. K. 


It was a starry night. A pale old moon, or a piece of a moon, 
was wrestling feebly with a gray mist that had arisen from the 
earth. It had just climbed into view from behind a wide corn- 
field on the east, and through the light and intervening fog looked 
dim and discouraged. This gray fog, however, hung low, and 
there was every prospect that the old moon would soon surmount 
it and proceed more cheerfully upon her route. The stars over- 
head were twinkling brightly even now, and the night atmosphere 
was decidedly chilly. 

“There’ll be a good frost to-night,” remarked Miss Marie, as she 
tripped, basket in hand, toward the woodpile. She submitted this 
observation in an undertone, though it did not seem to be of a con- 
fidential nature. 

“ Shouldn’t wonder,” replied the gallant escort, sinking his voice 
also, perhaps for fear of calling the dog from round the house. 

“ Our tobacco is all in the barn though,” continued the damsel ; 
“ so what’s the odds ? ” 

Mr. Robert Lee Templeton walked briskly by her side. He 
seemed to be pleased at the intelligence that her tobacco was all in 
the barn. 

“ These big frosts will make the rabbits fat and frisky,” pursued 
the young lady, who seemed more in the humor for scattering re- 
marks than sustained conversation. 

“ Just what they will do,” replied the agreeable escort. 

“ And the ’possums,” she added. 

“ And the ’possums,” he echoed. 

“And the persimmons. These white frosts will just make the 
persimmons too luscious for anything. Do you love ’simmons, 
Mr. Templeton ? ” 

“I dote on ’em, ’’answered Templeton, who was growing reckless. 

“ I like ’em the best kind,” said Miss Marie, swinging her basket 
vigorously. “ But then again I don’t like ’em, Mr. Templeton.” 

“ Why not? ” inquired Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. 

“ Because they pucker my mouth.” 

“ I’ll fetch you a basketful next time I come,” quoth he. “ Big 
ripe fellows.” 

“ You’re a clever young man, Mr. Templeton,” she made an- 
swer. “ I’ve thought it for some time. Now I know it.” 

“ Big, nice, luscious fellows,” he continued, as if in love with his 
subject. “ And I want you to eat ’simmons. and eat ’simmons, till 
your mouth will stay puckered for a week.” 


269 


Mr. Templeton Distinguishes Himself. 

Miss Marie Habersham : ‘‘ Great goodness. ’ 

Mr. Templeton: “Then, you know, if you felt like kissing 
either one of your parents your mouth will be in shape for the 
business. 

Miss Habersham : “ To be sure.” 

Mr. Templeton : ‘‘ And when the transaction of kissing a parent 
has been concluded, as your lips will still be set that way, I may ask 
you to oblige a friend.” 

Miss Habersham (quoting from a familiar song) : “ You’ll be 
silly if you do.” 

Mr. Templeton (who was a star debater at college) : “ I trust 
you will hear me before you reach a definite conclusion on this 
important subject. Why should I be deemed silly, my sprightly 
friend, if finding those rosy lips already puckered for the business 
I should make bold to ask you for a kiss ? Or indeed if the oppor- 
tunity is otherwise favorable, why should I wait for an artificially 
manufactured pucker before submitting so fair and reasonable a 
proposition ? Can it be pretended for a moment that a young lady 
of such wit and ingenuity as the one I now have the honor of ad- 
dressing can’t get up a pucker without the aid of persimmons? 
Such a supposition is preposterous. It would be a direct reflection 
upon the damsel in question for me to harbor such a thought for a 
moment. Therefore, my amiable young friend, as we stand out 
here together beneath the twinkling stars, two souls — I trust it 
may be said — with but a single thought, two hearts that beat as 


Miss Habersham (interrupting): “Your time’s out. Here’s 
the woodpile.” 

If any of my readers have ever picked up chips at a woodpile 
they do not need to be informed that it is a task requiring con- 
siderable expertness and dexterity on the part of the chip-picker. 
Moreover, it is a task that cannot be readily performed while the 
picker stands erect upon the earth, but it is essential to the success- 
ful operation of the business that he or she should stoop to conquer. 
It is quite true that here and there a supple individual might be 
found who could stand with legs unbending, and by inclining the 
body forward, and making a particularly long arm of it, succeed 
in picking up a few chips from the ground. But I hazard the 
assertion that even such a one would soon weary of the posture if 
there was a basket of chips to be picked, and, however punctilious 
upon ordinary occasions, would be strongly tempted to assume 


270 


The K. K. K. 


while the occupation lasted an easier, if less dignified, position. 
Therefore no one need be surprised when I state that Miss Marie 
Habersham and Mr. Bob Lee 1 empleton, having reached the spot 
where business was to be transacted, did not, like cousin 
Sallie Dillard, undertake to be too genteel, but knuckled down 
to their work like sensible folks, and went about the business 
as if they meant to pick up chips. Squeamish people may get 
down their books of etiquette and read homilies to me about pro- 
priety and the like o’ that, but I say there is a time and place for 
the observation of rules of propriety, as there is for everything else 
in this world. When a young lady is in the parlor entertaining 
company I grant you she should sit bolt upright in her chair, as 
near the edge as possible, and never unbend in the least during the 
entire evening; but when she goeth forth to the woodpile for 
chips, I say let her cast etiquette to the dogs and do her endeavor 
to excel as a chip-picker. So thought Miss Habersham and Mr. 
Templeton when on the present occasion they jointly and sever- 
ally got down close to the ground with the ragged old moon look- 
ing at them through a thin gray fog. 

Stooping down at the woodpile, with the basket between them 
for the more convenient dispatch of business, the young lady and 
the young gentleman began a diligent search for chips, and a gen- 
erous rivalry — as was natural under the circumstances — soon 
sprung up between them. The young lady was the nimblest and 
quickest, but the young gentleman had the longest arm, and thus 
it happened quite frequently that when she was about to lay hand 
on a tempting chip in her territory, he reached forth without leave 
and appropriated it to his own use. Human nature is human 
nature, and will be for a considerable while to come, and so after 
the young gentleman had performed this disreputable trick a few 
times the young lady began to lose her temper, or to find it, which- 
ever is the correct expression. Pretty soon she reached out in a 
dignified way for a nice little white chip, and perceiving her intent 
he extended his long arm and grasped the prize between his 
fingers. Determined not to be outdone, she likewise clutched it 
a second later, although it was already in his possession. A chip, 
as all well-informed persons know, is the small fragment that falls 
from the log when the woodman plies his ax. It is usually an 
inch or two long, an inch or two broad, and has no thickness to 
speak of. So when the young gentleman and the young lady fell 
to struggling over the same chip it came to pass that their fingers 


Mr. Templeton Distinguishes Himself. 271 

were very close together indeed. Miss Marie Habersham was a 
very determined young lady, and Mr. Bob Lee Templeton was a 
very determined young gentleman, and the chip was a very small 
chip, and it really was doubtful for some moments how the eager 
contest would result. 

“ Turn loose,” said Miss Marie in a tone that was really spiteful. 
“ It’s mine.” 

‘‘ It’s mine,” quoth Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, “ and I’ll have it 
or die.” That’s what he said. 

The controversy was conducted in an undertone, possibly for 
fear of calling the dog from round the house. 

“You will, will you?” replied the young lady, and with that 
she gave a sudden jerk and snatched the chip from his hands. 

Then while she was disposed to rejoice over her triumph he gave 
a sudden grab and snatched it back. 

He was so pleased at his success that he threw back his head, 
shut his eyes and began to laugh. It is a mistake one often makes 
when you suppose an enemy to be defeated who is not defeated. 
She made grab number three at the chip, and laid hold upon it, but 
he was clutching it so tightly this time that she couldn’t get it away. 
So it came about again that there were two human hands on that 
one little chip. This was exasperating. Betwixt the young lady 
and the young gentleman, as between Saul and Barnabas of old, 
there ensued a “ sharp contention.” The young lady didn’t care 
at all for the chip, but was resolved not to be imposed upon. It 
was the principle of the thing that nerved her in the combat. She 
was contending for her rights. The young gentleman cared not 
for the right or the wrong of the thing, but desired the pre- 
eminence. So they contended most earnestly, but very quietly, 
mind you, because it was desirable that the dog should not be 
called from round the house. Finally a thing came to pass that 
might have been anticipated from the start, but which neither one 
of them in their excitement did anticipate. It came to pass that 
the little chip got lost in the scuffle, and the young gentleman and 
the young lady were clutching each other’s hands tightly. Pre- 
cisely at what moment the young gentleman discovered this change 
in the situation I am not prepared to state. I will state, however, 
emphatically that it was a matter of two or three seconds before 
the young lady became aware of the fact that the chip had disap- 
peared from the struggle and her antagonist was squeezing her 
hand in a very ungentlemanly way. Then she rose up promptly j 


272 


Tlie K. K. K. 


she rose very promptly. I\Ir. Bob Lee Templeton also rose to his 
feet, but he didn’t let go her hand. She stood and pulled one way, 
and he stood and pulled another way, but the hold didn’t 
break. 

The stars were twinkling by thousands in the blue vault above, 
but stars — be it said to their credit — while they must see a good 
deal as they journey, never tell tales out of school. 

“ Let go,” exclaimed Miss Marie Habersham indignantly. 
“ Let go this instant, I tell you.” 

He must have been a little hard of hearing, for he did not regard 
her command in the least. 

“ Let go,” she repeated in a tone not quite so imperative. ‘‘ Let 
go, and you may have the chip.” 

The immortal George Washington when the enemy surrendered 
at Yorktown urged his victorious army to be generous to a 
yielding foe. Mr. Templeton, I am pained to relate, showed 
himself on the present occasion to be incapable of appreciating 
such a lofty sentiment. The bone, or rather the chip, of contention, 
had, as we see, been surrendered, and if he had been in the least 
magnanimous the subject would have been dropped, the young 
lady’s hand would have been dropped with it, and the incident at 
the woodpile — to use a diplomatic phrase — would have been 
closed. Instead, however, of bringing the matter to a conclusion 
in this gentlemanly way Mr. Templeton held tightly to the little 
hand in his clutch and squared himself, as the saying is, for a talk 
of some length. He was evidently under the impression that 
argufying was his forte, and having, like the spell-binding ancient 
mariner, an auditor who was compelled to listen, he availed him- 
self without scruple of his opportunity. 

“ Let go, p-l-e-a-s-e,” said Miss Marie Habersham in the most 
pleading tone in the world, and pulling away from him with a 
face that even in the dim starlight looked flushed. 

“ My much-esteemed friend,” began the young gentleman in his 
polished debating-society manner, “ there is a tide in the affairs of 
men that taken at the flood leads on to fortune. A few minutes 
since I would have been satisfied with the possession of this little 
insignificant chip, but now the tide of my destiny is rising, and I 
and the little chip together are borne onward to a consummation 
not originally contemplated by me, and, I am convinced, not origi- 
nally contemplated by the chip.” 

She stopped and smiled and listened. His remarks were rather 


Mr. Templeton Distinguishes Himself. 273 

too deep for her comprehension, but she could easily discern with 
her mind’s eye that he was bordering upon the eloquent. 

“ It often happens in the history of nations,” pursued the orator, 
” that the original matter of controversy between two contestants 
is lost sight of, and the end brings the victorious party to a posi- 
tion far in advance of any he dreamed of occupying in the begin- 
ning.” 

She smiled broadly now, and wondered what all this mystifying 
talk was leading up to. 

“ It is the common experience of mankind,” pursued the 
incipient statesman, “ that under the circumstances just mentioned 
the victorious party, will show no mercy at all toward the unsuc- 
cessful contestant, but will at once display a disposition to become 
hoggish and take everything in sight.” 

“ Now I understand you,” remarked Miss Habersham. 

“ I hope so,” replied Mr. Templeton. “ The line of conduct 
which I have designated as being quite common in the experience 
of mankind is not one, however, that commends itself to my con- 
science, and not one that I intend to pursue on this occasion.” 

He here paused and stroked his chin with his disengaged hand 
and looked up at the stars. 

“ What next ? ” inquired Miss Marie, alias Polly, Habersham. 

“ I have bethought me of a plan,” continued the logician, “ that 
will give to me all the legitimate fruits of victory in this case, and 
will not impose on you the humiliation of defeat.” 

“ Let’s have it,” replied the young lady, who had become so 
much interested in the line of his argument that she forgot he was 
still holding her hand. 

“ So I will,” replied the young gentleman, looking very hard 
at her to impress her with the force of his observations. “ My 
plan is simply this. You take the chip into your own possession. 
Then it’s your chip, and victory perches upon your banner, does 
it not ? ” 

“ Y-e-ss.” 

“ Then I take both you and the chip. So it will be my girl 
and my chip ; and victory perches on my banner, does it not ? ” . 

“ That’s nonsense.” 

It’s not nonsense. It’s good law and good logic. Under the 
statutes of Tennessee the personal property of the wife belongs 
to the husband. That chip is personal property, and when you’ve 
got the chip, and I’ve got you, the chip is mine.” 


! 


274 The K. K. K. 

“ That law may suit the men that made it,” said she, ‘‘ but it’s 
a sin and a shame to treat poor women folks in such fashion, and 
I don’t care who hears me say it. You put the chip in your pocket, 
if you wish, and I’ll carry the basket back into the house. I don’t 
want the little chip anyway. It wasn’t worth having a scuffle 
over.” 

“ It was not worth having a scuffle over, my dear,” said he 
(‘‘my dear” was the expression he used, and she was a little 
startled at it) — ‘‘ it was not worth having a scuffle over, and we’U 
be very careful in the future not to quarrel over such trivial 
matters. For my part, I promise you upon the word and honor 
of a gentleman that I will never hereafter squabble with you over 
any small matter, or great matter, but will always, as Brother Paul 
says, yield you the pre-eminence. That will be right and proper 
because _while sweethearts may be whimsical, and now and then 
fly off at a tangent, when it comes to that closer and dearer rela- 
tion ” 

“What are you talking about?” says she. 

“ Why, my dear,” answers Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, “ I’m 
talking about the way I’m going to behave myself when I’m the 
head of a family and you’re Mrs. Templeton. What else could 
I be talking about? ” 

“ Why,” says she, “ you haven’t asked anybody yet.” 

“ Then,” replied Mr. Templeton, “ I’ll ask you now. Will 
you, my dear, take this man to be your lawful and wedded hus- 
band ? Will you promise out here at the woodpile to love, honor 
and obey him ” 

“ I will not,” says she. “ I’m not that kind of a girl.” 

“ Ah, sure enough ; I forgot. Will you then, my imperious 
damsel, accept the homage of your liege subject, and permit him 
to minister to your wants all the rest of your days ? Will you con- 
descend, Miss Habersham, to become my wife ? ” 

“ I will not.” 

“ Yes, you will, too. I’ve made up my mind to that. Come 
now, Polly, no foolishness.” 

“ Who said you might call me Polly? ” 

“ That’s all right, that’s all right,” replied Mr. Bob Lee Temple- 
ton persuasively as he drew her nearer toward him. “ Don’t you 
be apprehensive, my dear — don’t be in the least apprehensive. 
I’m your friend. By Jimmy, I love you the worst kind. I can’t 
help it, you see. Say, Polly, give me a kiss to put a good taste in 


Mr. Templeton Distinguishes Himself. 275 

my month. Give me a kiss, and then let’s go back in the house 
and talk this thing over like plain sensible folks.” 

“ I won’t ; that’s flat.” 

“ You will; that’s flat.” 

‘‘ I won’t, I tell you.” 

“ You will, I tell you. Come now, Polly, don’t be apprehensive ; 
d-o-n-’-t be apprehensive.” 

He spoke so reassuringly that she could hardly continue to be 
apprehensive, assuming that she was so at the outset. He coaxed 
her as one would a skittish filly that may break loose at any 
minute and play the wilds. He drew her gently toward him as 
he soothed her. ‘‘Come now, Polly; c-o-m-e now, Polly.” 
First she resisted and pulled back as hard as she could. Then 
she hung her head and laughed. Then by sudden effort she 
snatched her hand away and started to run. Then he seized her; 
there was a brief struggle, both sides being careful not to call the 
dog from round the house ; then he kissed her ; then for some 
moments there was peace at the woodpile. 

They took the basket, each having a hand on the handle, and 
walked like well-behaved young people back into the house. They 
made a brisk fire, and pretty soon a ruddy blaze was leaping up 
the chimney. Everything was cozy and comfortable as heart 
could wish, and as they sat side by side on the sofa they talked 
in a delicious and sweetly sober way of this, that and t’other ; one 
thing and another. The old, old story was told over and over 
again with some variations, but it was the old, old story after all. 
There was deep planning for the future, and pledging of mutual 
vows, and exchange of confidence. He held her little hand 
betwixt his clumsy fingers, and there was no drawing back as there 
had been at the woodpile. He patted it fondly and in an absent- 
minded way, without causing her to become apprehensive. They 
wheeled the sofa now nearer and nearer to the hearth — for the 
fire was dying low again — and snuggled up closer and closer to 
each other, and conducted themselves about as young people under 
like circumstances usually do. The room was getting really chilly 
now, but it didn’t occur to either of them to put on more chips, for 
a fire was burning brightly in both their hearts, and Cupid fanned 
the flame. 


276 


The K. K. K. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE CASE OF THE STATE VERSUS ANKERSTROM IS HEARD IN THE RE- 
VISING COURT, AND THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS IS UPHELD. 

Our esteemed friend, Johan Ankerstrom, whom we left on his 
way to the Coopertown jail after the outrageous verdict of the 
hard-hearted jury and the cruel sentence of the unjust judge, 
reached that institute, we are pained to narrate, in a frame of mind 
the reverse of amiable. The fangs of Jineral Beauregard still 
rankled in his flesh, and he did not recover anything like equa- 
nimity of temper until late in the afternoon of the same day, when 
a visit from his estimable parent tended somewhat to soothe his 
lacerated feelings. Johan, while seemingly destitute of natural 
affection, was always more or less amused at the antics and 
monkey shines of his demonstrative father, and on this occasion 
the visit of the old man served to remind him of the pleasing 
assurances of his attorney as to the final outcome of his case. 

The old gentleman, Olof Ankerstrom, had not seen fit to mix 
much with the witnesses and lawyers in the court-house during the 
trial of his son, for fear some curious person might connect him 
with a certain old Bible vendor and jewelry peddler, and deaf 
farmer, who had of late operated quite extensively in the Marrow- 
bone Hills. As soon as the trial was over, however, he came forth 
from his retirement, and was, as we know, much encouraged by 
hearing his son’s attorney proclaim publicly that he had a rever- 
sal without fail in the court of last resort at Nashville. He caught 
the point relied on for annulling the verdict much more readily 
than his dull son had done, and, as stated, later in the day sought 
out the latter in prison to cheer him up. Being admitted into the 
cell where Johan languished he would have embraced him in his 
enthusiasm if the latter had not impatiently repelled his advances. 

“ Mine zon, mine zon,” exclaimed the old man eagerly, though 
in a low tone for fear of eavesdropping, I haff talk mit de 
lawyer vot understand his pizness, und he zay elfry thing is shoost 


The Case of the State Versus Ankerstrom. 277 

right, and he vould not haff it ottervise for de best horse in town. 
Lizden to me, mine zon, lizden to me. De shudge and shury haff 
made von hell of a miztake, and de Shupereme Court at Nashville 
dey neffer make miztakes. You understand dot, min zon. Ven 
you hit de old lady mit de ax you made a potch ufif de shob, und 
she giff you avay to otters vot come in pehint you. She giff de 
whole thing away, und tole de tale uxackerly as it vos, mine zon. 
But ven she told de tale she vos in her right mind, you onderstand, 
and making ready herself to luke after pizness in dis vorld, and 
not some otter vorld. Lizden to me, mine zon, lizden to me. Ef 
so be de old lady vos fixin’ to die terreckerly, and haff her mind on 
some otter vorld, de vise law vould hear de tale she tell, pecause 
mit de devil close by de coot Kerristian vill not tell a lie. Ef de 
coot Kerristian haff his mind on dis vorld, mine zon, he vill He, 
and svindle, and not mind de devil vot vill get him pime-py. But 
ef he haff his mind on some otter vorld and know de credit pizness 
is played out, den de coot Kerristian vill tell de trute for vear uff 
de devil vich vill get him terreckerly. Dis vot de lawyer Per- 
laffer zay, and de lawyer Perlaffer is a vise man. Now, ven you 
hit de old lady mit de ax, and made a potch uff de shob, she told 
her tale to dem vot come pehint you, but she told it mit her mind 
on dis vorld, vere lying and svindling is a effry-day pizness. Zo, 
mine zon, de law will not pelieff de old lady. De vise law zay to 
her, ‘ If so pe you haff your mind on dis vorld, coom into court, 
my coot vooman, vere de lawyers can tvist you inside out, and 
den ve vill pelieff your tale, vot is left of it.’ Dat vot de law zay, 
mine zon, und dat is coot sense, und dat is pizness. De fool 
shudge and fool shury zay ottervise, but Perlaffer tell dem all 
in de court-house dat de Shupereme Court of de State neffer make 
a miztake, and Perlaffer is a vise man.” 

If the worthy old gentleman thus looked forward to the coming 
decision of the Supreme Court of Tennessee with cheerfulness and 
abiding faith, and if even the surly son was encouraged to build 
hopes upon the finding of that tribunal, the reader may rest as- 
sured that the good people of the community where the widow Bas- 
combe had been foully murdered at midnight, were fast losing 
the little remnant of patience that the tedious course of the trial 
had left them. They were not a vindictive folk by any means, 
but the crime had been of a nature well calculated to arouse the 
citizens of any locality, and make them determined to see that 
something like adequate punishment was awarded the offender. 


The. K. K. K. 


278 

They felt that not only simple justice demanded this, but that their 
own future security demanded it, and now with the murderer un- 
punished after so many months of weary waiting they concluded 
they had a right to be indignant against every person at all con- 
nected with thwarting the summary vengeance they had been 
minded to wreak upon him as soon as they learned of the crime. 
As upon one pretext or another there had been delay upon delay, 
they were quite ready to believe that by hook or crook the wily 
Palaver, whose shrewdness in defending criminals was proverbial 
the country over, would manage to secure for his client another 
long delay, and finally immunity from punishment. Randolph 
Pearson, who had been doubtless the most respected man in his 
community, came in now for his full share of the censure that was 
heaped on every one who had objected to the hanging of the mur- 
derer by a mob as soon as he was caught. Indeed, Pearson was 
blamed far more than any one else, and found himself now for the 
first time in his life the object of ill will among his neighbors. So 
far did this faultfinding disposition go that it seriously afifected 
the members of the klan which Pearson had organized for the pur- 
pose of aiding and upholding the law in his community. At their 
night meetings in the woods the most excited discussions took 
place, and resolutions were introduced and urged doing away 
with the court of their own creation and substituting the will of 
the majority for the decrees of this tribunal. These resolutions 
did not carry, but Pearson was stung by the evidence of lack of 
confidence among those who had trusted him most implicitly, and 
was also seriously afifected by it. Like most determined men, he 
sometimes permitted his firmness to degenerate into obstinacy, and 
this was especially the case where he met with opposition in the 
execution of a cherished plan. His predominate idea at the outset 
had been to suppress mob law in his community, and to demon- 
strate to the world that the courts of the country were able and 
willing to punish crime if the hasty advocates of mob violence 
would but trust in the law. He had gathered a band of good citi- 
zens about him, and had succeeded in arresting the murderer 
against whom indignation had been justly aroused, and turning 
him over to the proper legal authorities. He had done this with 
the utmost confidence that a few weeks, or a few months at 
farthest, would bring the scoundrel to punishment, but he now 
saw, or had come to believe, that the criminal statutes were framed 
far more with the view of protecting accused persons from pos- 


The Case of the State Versus Ankerstrom. 279 

sible wrong than of protecting society by the speedy punish- 
ment of offenders. Pearson was sufficiently well informed to 
know that this was a wise policy at that remote period of English 
history when the danger to be guarded against in legislation was 
the disposition of the powerful few to oppress the helpless 
common people. But this danger had long since passed away. 
Society, especially in the Southern States of America, had been 
formed on entirely new lines, and the one thing needed now in 
criminal legislation was to impose such speedy and effectual 
punishment on the enemies of peace and sound morals as would 
teach them to fear and the community to respect the law of the 
land. He saw that for some reason the law was wholly inefficient 
in grave cases like the one in which he had been so much inter- 
ested, and was for the first time in his life impelled to the con- 
clusion that of the two evils — a statute law which was too solicit- 
ous for the welfare of the accused, and mob law that was too 
ready to avenge a wrong — the latter was sometimes preferable. 

While Pearson’s experience in the Ankerstrom case, however, 
had impelled him reluctantly to this conclusion, he was quite san- 
guine that the decision of the State Supreme Court would be on 
the side of manifest justice, and not in favor of still further shield- 
ing the criminal from responsibility for his wrongdoing. The vex- 
atious part of the proceedings heretofore had been the apparently 
unavoidable delays that had marked each step in the progress of 
the cause. When the criminal had been finally compelled to face 
a jury, conviction had followed, though here again a long wait was 
interposed before it could be finally ascertained whether the verdict 
of the jury would stand. There could be no doubt about the 
affirmation by the Supreme Court of the sentence below, unless the 
statement made by the old widow to those about her death bed was 
held to be inadmissible as evidence. The circuit judge after a 
long argument had admitted this so-called dying declaration as 
part of the testimony in the case, and Pearson — while he had some 
misgivings on the subject — could not help feeling reasonably 
assured that the revising court would take the same view of the 
case. To say that the plain death-bed statement of an eyewitness 
to a crime, who had been murdered to prevent her appearing in 
court, should not be weighed as evidence, was a proposition too 
monstrous to be entertained for a moment. To say that the law 
would not listen to a tale that had carried conviction to an entire 
community, told by a good old woman whose respect for plain 


28 o 


The K. K. K. 


truth was proverbial, would be to say that the administration of 
justice was a farce, and that no man henceforward need profess 
respect for it. 

Thus strortgly did Randolph Pearson state the proposition in 
his own mind, and as he did so his assurance became doubly sure 
that the days of the murderer, Ankerstrom, were numbered, and 
before the expiration of many additional months the community he 
had outraged would see him expiate his monstrous crime upon the 
gallows. The Supreme Court met at Nashville on the first Mon- 
day in December, and Pearson waited patiently till the case of the 
State versus Ankerstrom should be reached. This he soon learned 
would not be until sometime in the month of January, or possibly 
February, as the county from which the bill of exceptions came 
up stood about the middle of the docket, and must wait its turn in 
the regular order of procedure. It was in fact early in February 
when Palaver, with his little black grip in hand, boarded the cars 
and went whirling away toward Nashville to have his say before 
the august tribunal that had been sitting there listening to able 
speeches till it had grown weary of much prating. 

The attorney on reaching his destination first went to call on his 
client, who was now safely domiciled in the Nashville jail, and give 
him fresh assurance of triumpiiant victory upon the morrow. He 
then betook him to the best hostelry in the town, and after cracking 
many jokes with old cronies, and tipping glasses over the saloon 
counter a few times with the same, he tumbled into bed, and was 
soon by refreshing slumber befitting himself for the trying exer- 
cises of the following day. Next morning he puffed up the steep 
hill upon which sits the imposing building occupied as a State 
capitol, and was soon in the presence of the five pleasant-faced 
and pleasant-spoken gentlemen with whom in this particular 
matter were the issues of life and death. Nothing abashed, the 
lawyer took his seat on one of the long faded sofas that skirt the 
apartment and made ready by concentrated mental effort to as- 
tonish the court when his time should come. A little way off on 
another dingy sofa sat Randolph Pearson, calm and dignified out- 
wardly as usual, but slightly perturbed, as the occasionaKcrossing 
and uncrossing of his feet and other nervous movements of the 
body indicated. 

That the deeply interested farmer had some reason to be anxious 
as to the result was demonstrated to his own satisfaction before the 
argument of the case proceeded very far. The so-called bill of ex- 


The Case of the State Versus Ankerstrom. 281 


ceptions upon which the court was to rest its finding was a great 
^ mass of manuscript that, rolled up, would have made a bundle 
as large as an average gate-post. It was rolled up at the outset 
and tied with a stout twine string. When unbound the pieces un- 
curled and scattered themselves about on the table, and rolled, 
many of them, off the table, and traveled about on the floor, till 
the industrious attorney who was supposed to have them in charge 
found great difficulty in keeping up with them. These fugitive 
fragments of literature were supposed to contain the testimony of 
the numerous witnesses who had given evidence on one side and 
the other in the trial of Johan Ankerstrom before the circuit judge 
and jury. The language of the witnesses had not been taken down 
by a stenographer as the trial progressed, but after its conclusion 
Palaver had written down at great length such statements and ad- 
missions as he thought to be favorable to his side of the contro- 
versy, and the district attorney — who had much other matter on 
his mind — had written down succinctly the testimony of the State’s 
witnesses, and after conference and some eliminations and altera- 
tions here and there, the whole had been presented to and signed 
by the circuit judge as a correct bill of exceptions. Now, the Su- 
preme Court looked at the great mass of papers in a helpless way, 
for they could not have mastered the entire contents in a week’s 
solid reading, and they had probably less than an hour’s time to de- 
vote to it. They were able, learned, and conscientious jurists, 
these five gentlemen who now sat on the supreme bench of the 
State, but they were human and of limited capacity for work, and 
all and severally might have cried out any day of the year, “ The 
burden that’s laid upon us is greater than we can bear.” In re- 
quiring them in a very brief space of time to thoroughly post them- 
selves as to all the facts brought out in the long trial, and thus 
practically to retry the case on its merits, the law had imposed on 
them a task impossible of performance, and they could really do 
little more than rely on the opposing attorneys to state these facts 
as disclosed by the record. 

As Pearson sat on the dingy old sofa and heard fragments of the 
voluminous record read, he could not help reflecting upon the in- 
sufficiency of this method of informing the judges as to the facts 
in the case. The manner of the various witnesses, their changes 
of countenance, the hundred other evidences of truth or falsity that 
profoundly impress a jury, are all lost when their words are taken 
down on paper, to be read afterwards by strangers. This would be 


282 


The K. K. K. 


true if the words were taken down literally as they fell from the 
lips of the witnesses, but when they are committed to paper some 
days after the conclusion of the trial by interested attorneys, the 
difficulty of having the record speak the real truth becomes greatly 
magnified. As he sat now and listened while Palaver in persua- 
sive tones narrated to the court the facts, dipping here and there 
into the record to substantiate his statements, he, Pearson, was 
greatly surprised to find that the case as it was impressed on the 
minds of the five judges before him bore no very close resemblance 
to the case which had been presented by sworn witnesses on the 
stand in the court below. Palaver had a tremendous advantage 
over the attorney-general for the State in the fact that he knew 
exactly what the bulky record contained, while the latter official 
had never heard of the case till the papers reached the Supreme 
Court, and had only given it since such investigation as a 
tired mind could give one of many similar cases before 
him. Palaver, therefore, with impunity dipped here and 
there in the record, as a shrewd manipulator would sample 
a hogshead of tobacco, and extracted such fragments of 
evidence as it suited his purpose to read, connecting this 
and that as he proceeded, and making on the whole a smooth 
and highly probable tale. The old widow had m.ade one 
statement which, if true, clearly proved the guilt of the negro 
Kinchen, for her neighbors then present caught him and hung 
him for the crime. Afterward she made another statement which 
implicated the prisoner at the bar, and if the issue here was one of 
fact alone it could not be said with assurance that the defendant 
was guilty, for it could never be known which of her opposing 
statements was true, if indeed either was true. The prisoner’s 
conduct immediately after the homicide was certainly not such as 
to indicate a consciousness of guilt on his part. Pie was found 
with others there on the ground, taking an active part in the violent 
proceedings that led to the death of the negro, Kinchen, against 
whom he could have had no sort of grudge, except that he believed 
him to be the perpetrator of the foul crime just committed. 
Twenty-four hours later we find the prisoner in the pub- 
lic highway, calmly talking to the sheriff. He had eaten 
dinner on the same day at a farmhouse in the neiglibor- 
hood, and afterwards had laid down and taken a long nap 
under a tree in the yard. All this certainly indicated a 
quiet conscience on his part. That he subsequently became 


The Case of the State Versus Ankerstrom. 283 


alarmed and hid himself was quite true, hut what ignorant 
foreigner was it that wouldn’t seek a place of concealment when 
he learned that an angry mob was scouring the country for him, 
determined to kill him as soon as he was captured? The prisoner 
was a foreigner. He was poor and very ignorant. He had not 
a friend in the neighborhood of the tragedy to whom he could 
appeal for protection. What else could he do under these circum- 
stances but secrete himself from observation till the wild storm had 
blown over and reason had resumed its sway in the community? 

As the lawyer went glibly on with his statement of facts Pearson 
could see he was making an impression on the five trained judges 
before him. Not that they were ready by any means to conclude 
that the prisoner was innocent of the crime laid at his door, but 
that they felt there was doubt enough on the subject to make a 
thorough investigation of the record necessary if the case was to 
be determined upon the facts. This was precisely the frame of 
mind in which Palaver wished to have them as he took up now the 
question of law upon which was his real reliance in his earnest 
application for a new trial. 

Randolph Pearson, sitting back on his dingy sofa, saw at once 
that here was the battle ground in the present contention as it had 
been in the court below. The attorney-general for the State, who 
up to this moment had been examining the papers in another cause, 
now pricked up his ears and became an interested listener as Pala- 
ver launched with confidence into his argument. Pearson, a plain 
and conscientious man, had persuaded himself that the fierce effort 
of the prisoner’s counsel before the circuit judge on this point was 
but idle chaff, and would not be repeated in the presence of the five 
able jurists who sat on the supreme bench. He not only saw now 
that he had been too hasty in jumping to this conclusion, but found 
to his surprise that the considerations which had induced him to 
think that the dying statement of the old widow must necessarily 
be admitted as evidence were not even alluded to by counsel on 
either side. That she was recognized in her own community as a 
very clear-headed and truthful old woman before the murderous 
attack was made upon her, that her character generally was such 
as had won for her the respect of all her neighbors, that she was 
entirely at herself when she narrated the dreadful incidents of the 
night which was her last on earth, that she told a story so clear 
and connected that it carried conviction with it to those who stood 
about her bedside, all this, which Pearson thought would be con- 


The K. K. K. 


284 

elusive of the question he now found had little or nothing to do 
with it, or, to speak more correctly, these facts were hardly mani- 
fested at all by the record, and evidently had not been brought 
home to the knowledge either of the court or the attorney-general 
for the State. The latter official was a good, sound lawyer with, 
as said, many other matters upon his mind, and many other cases 
besides the present one that would soon demand his attention. 
The primary question before the court was as to whether the 
ante mortem statement of Mrs. Bascombe was admissible at all 
as evidence when it appeared plainly from the record that it was 
not considered by her at the moment of its utterance to be a death- 
bed statement. If her relation was admissible as evidence then 
might arise the further enquiry as to her mental condition at the 
time, the inducement that prompted her tale, her character for 
truth, etc. All this would be proper matter for investigation if 
the court should hold that a dying declaration might be introduced 
as evidence in a criminal case when the person from whom the 
utterance came was not contemplating speedy death. 

Supreme judges, like other folks, are human beings, with 
human impulses and human sympathies. Their decisions, like 
ours, are often swayed, and properly swayed, by facts appeal- 
ing in a particular case strongly to their sense of right and jus- 
tice. There are certain well-settled rules that can not be over- 
ridden at will, but even these may often be modified, or not 
applied in full force, where substantial justice demands that 
such course be taken. Where there’s a will there’s a way, and 
if the judges in the present instance could have realized what a 
truthfrtl, courageous old woman the widow Bascombe had been 
in life, if they could have been aroused as to the deep damnation 
of her taking off, if they could have seen further that by excluding 
her narration a brutal scoundrel would go unwhipped of justice, 
their consciences would have rebelled against a holding that 
led to such conclusion. As it was, they did not comprehend all 
this at all, but had only a dry question of law to deal with. As 
the matter was presented to their minds they could not say with 
assurance whether the prisoner was the object of misplaced mob 
fury, or the perpetrator of a horrible crime. Thus Palaver 
waged his fight from the vantage ground of having at least the 
probable right of the issue on his side when he contended for 
the application of an old rule of evidence which had never 
been seriously questioned in the State before. The Attorney- 


The Case of the State Versus Ankerstrom. 285 

General, on the other hand, while he argued for the modification 
of this rule, did so without much heart, and evidently with little 
expectation of inducing the court to sustain him in his contention. 
Pie touched alone upon the legal aspect of the question, cited au- 
thorities from other States in support of his position, and left the 
disputed question to the decision of the court without dwelling on 
its importance in the particular case under investigation. 

The following Saturday was opinion day, and Pearson was back 
in his place, as was also the prisoner and his counsel. The 
court held, and Pearson was not surprised, that the record dis- 
closed but little evidence upon which to base a conviction, except 
the statement of the old woman, Mrs. Bascombe, made to those 
about her a few hours before her death. That she had been 
cruelly assailed by some one was not a matter of doubt. A 
negro had been hung by a mob for the attack upon her, and after- 
ward she recovered consciousness and made a statement crimi- 
nating the defendant. This statement was made only a few hours 
before her death, but it certainly was not made by her in view 
of approaching death. It was not a dying declaration within 
the meaning and contemplation of the law. No statement could 
be considered such unless it was not only a death-bed statement, 
but made with the knowledge and belief on the part of the 
speaker that death was imminent. The decisions on this subject 
were too clear and of too long standing to admit of question now. 
His honor the circuit judge erred in admitting to the jury as 
evidence a statement directly criminating the prisoner, which was 
made by the murdered woman not unde the impression that she 
was about to die, but — as the record disclosed — under the con- 
fident hope of recovery. For this material error the case was 
reversed and remanded and a new trial awarded the prisoner. 

The prisoner’s counsel with a radiant expression of counte- 
nance took his way out of the court-room, and Pearson slowly 
followed. As the attorney passed through the door that led into 
the hall a little old gentleman stood, cap in hand, just without. 
The little old gentleman bowed very low to Palaver, and remarked 
fervently as the latter passed on, “ Cot pless you, mine frient.” 
The attorney acknowledged the salute graciously, and as he pro- 
ceeded along the hall Pearson heard him tell a companion by his 
side that the little old gentleman was the father of his client, 
Ankerstrom, the conviction against whom had just been reversed 
by the Supreme Court. Palaver further informed his companion 


286 


The K. K. K. 


that the little old gentleman who had invoked heaven’s blessing 
upon him was one of the very best men in the section from which 
he hailed, and was also a very devout old man, as was plainly in- 
dicated by the pious benediction that had just fallen from his lips. 


Which Tells of a Carousal at the JaiL 287 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

WHICH TELLS OF A CAROUSAL AT THE JAIL AND A SOBERER GATH- 
ERING IN THE WOOD. 

That evening the pious old gentleman whose reverential 
manner had won the flattering indorsement of his attorney, took 
occasion to celebrate the decided legal victory achieved by a visit 
of congratulation to his affectionate son in prison. He went 
armed with a letter from his lawyer, saying he hoped the courte- 
sies of the place might be extended to Mr. Ankerstrom of Chi- 
cago, who was a gentleman in every way deserving any attention 
that could be shown him. This was fortified by a note on the 
back of the paper from the sheriff, instructing the jailer to let the 
visitor have a conference with the prisoner, Ankerstrom, and to 
give the two a private room if one could be spared for the purpose 
in the establishment. The devout old gentleman purchased a 
liberal supply of liquor, which he concealed in the folds of his 
overcoat, and when the shadows of night had been chased away 
by the electric lights of the city presented himself at the jail door 
and handed in his credentials. The decision of the Supreme Court 
in Ankerstrom’s behalf was considered by all the officials as the 
practical ending of the case against him, and therefore the keeper 
of the prison had less hesitation in relaxing to some extent the 
rigidity of the rule that required his constant confinement in very 
contracted quarters. Moreover, the pious demeanor of the old 
gentleman, and the fact that he stood particularly well in the 
community from which he hailed, induced the jailer to be as in- 
dulgent as he possibly could, and he ushered Mr. Olof Anker- 
strom, after he had read his letters of credit, into an apartment 
about ten feet square, with a small cheap table and two or three 
rather rickety chairs for furniture. The single window of this 
room was heavily grated, as was the door that led into it, though 
there was a wooden door also that closed from within, so that the 
occupant — if he was of vivid fancy and refrained from looking 


288 


The K. K. K. 


out at the window — might imagine himself to be in a snug apart- 
ment of an economical hotel. Mr. Olof Ankerstrom seemed to 
take this cheerful view of his surroundings, for when he had 
followed the jailer within he rubbed his hands toward the little 
grate where the fire ought to have been and exclaimed heartily : 
“ Ah, dis ish nise, dis ish nise.” 

“ It’s the best we can do,” replied the jailer, and he told the 
truth. There were other and better furnished apartmnts about 
the house, but they were for visitors who would not be tempted to 
abuse the hospitality of the host and forsake the premises without 
taking formal leave. 

Presently Johan was brought in, and on even his scowling fea- 
tures there was something like a grin, for he considered himself 
almost a free man once more. The old gentleman was effusive and 
shook hands with his son, and danced around his son, and gave 
other tokens of extravagant esteem, though he met with no more 
response than if he had been doing homage to a wooden image. 
Johan seemed to be a little amused at the monkey antics of his 
demonstrative parent, and to entertain at the same time an indis- 
guised contempt for him, but he displayed not the slightest evi- 
dence of affection or appreciation of the sacrifices the latter had 
made in the effort to save his worthless neck. 

When the turnkey had locked the door behind him and left the 
two alone, the elder Ankerstrom drew from the deep side pocket 
of his overcoat a flask containing a pint of liquid, and so fashioned 
that the top part of the cover being removed formed an excellent 
drinking cup. Depositing this carefully upon the table he drew 
from the opposite side pocket a smaller phial labelled ” Cocktail 
Bitters.” Placing this by the side of the flask he next extracted 
a half dozen lemons and some lumps of sugar. Plaving thus 
unburdened himself he withdrew a step or two from the table, 
and lifting both hands surveyed the whole with affectionate admi- 
ration. The apartment was rather contracted for a festal hall, 
but it was evident the old gentleman had come to make a night 
of it. “ Ve haff no ise,” he said presently to his son when he had 
poured out a drink, “ but the shentleman haff locked us up in his 
ise-house, vich vill do shust as veel.” 

With this facetious remark the old gentleman handed his son 
as liberal a drink as the cup would hold, which the latter gulped 
down without a word. Then the devout old man himself swal- 
lowed a draught of the liquor, and was about to cork the bottle 


Which Tells of a Carousal at the Jail. 289 

when Johan reached forth his hand and grunted for more fire- 
water. The request so graciously preferred was cheerfully 
granted, and the old man then set down the flask. For an hour 
or more they talked, or rather for that length of time the old man’s 
loosened tongue ran, and again and again when they found the 
evening growing dull they resorted to the flask and the cocktail 
bitters to cheer their flagging spirits. When the flask became 
exceedingly light and a look of apprehension overspread Johan’s 
countenance, the old man drew from another pocket another 
flask, and holding it triumphantly aloft reassured his offspring. 
What subjects the tw^o discussed, or rather upon what topics the 
old man held forth in the course of the evening, ’twere long to 
tell, and the reader would find it dull entertainment if ’twere set 
down. The old man spoke in a low tone — for walls have ears — 
and often spliced out his meaning with gesticulation and ex- 
pressive shrugs of the shoulder. He informed his son, for the 
latter’s comfort, that he would stick to him till he was once more 
a free man, though it might be some time yet before that consum- 
mation would be reached. 

“ Dey vill park at you, my zon, and vill haff your neck in te 
tarn noose anyhow, if so be dey kin. Dey are bad peobles, bad 
peobles, dese tarn hill volks, and vill not respect de law like coot 
zitizuns. Dere vill pe otter trials, otter trials, mine zon, and more 
tarn vitnesses, and more talking uff lawyers, and hell to pay shine- 
rally, but te Ankerstrom vambly vill pull troo dis throoble as dey 
haff pulled troo many anotter throoble ; haff no vear uff dat. If 
dere vas von man out te vay I vood sleep veil dis night. I vould 
sleep hearty and sound dis night, s’help me, if dot tarn Perryerson 
vas in te otter vorld, vere he belong. He push dis pizness too fur. 
He meddle vid vat do not concern him. Mine lawyer, Perlaffer, 
he zay dere voot pe no otter trial if Perryerson vould be quiet. 
Ah, mine zon, but he vill not pe quiet, mark dat. He vill not pe 
quiet, mine zon, oonless soompody giff him someding to quiet 
him.” 

The son here blurted out a fierce oath, and growled an inquir}’ 
that brought the old man in an instant to his feet. He threw up 
his hands in alarm, and uttered a warning sh-sh-sh. Then he sat 
down again by Johan’s side and spoke in a whisper: “Zay 
notting, zay notting, mine zon. Ve vill attend to de case uff dis 
man Perryerson. I haff a frient, a coot frient, uff de name uff 
Kervackenparse, but dey calls him Alabam’ Zam for short. He 
19 


290 


The K. K. K. 


is a coot doctor for dem vat meddles vit otter peoble’s pizness. 
He is a coot man, dis Alabam’ Zam, and mine true frient. I will 
lay de plan for to quiet dis Perryerson, and Alabam’ Zam vill do 
de vork ; so be if throoble comes his neck vill go in de halter and 
not mine. Pizness is pizness. Keep a still tongue in your head, 
mine zon, keep a still tongue in your head, like as you haff done 
up to dis minit. I kiff you de praise for dat. Do not visper, do 
not talk in your sleep, do not say a single vord against dis coot 
man Perryerson, and de next time your case goes to de shury you 
may luke all ofer de court-room, but you vill not see him ! ” 

The old man here rose, and walking backward as far as the 
contracted space in the room would allow, kept nodding to Johan, 
who was sitting stupidly in a chair with his elbows resting on the 
table. More liquor was poured out, and they both drank again. 
The old gentleman before he drained his glass held it high and 
gave this toast : “ Here’s to de man vat meddles mit otter peoble’s 
pizness. May he live long and pe ’appy — in some otter vorld.” 

He was a little unsteady upon his pegs as he gave utterance 
to this sentiment, but did not lose his caution, as was demonstrated 
a moment later when the turnkey unexpectedly opened the door 
and entered the room. The old gentleman, who was standing ac 
the time with his feet rather wide apart, bowed politely to the 
new-comer, and with his unemptied cup still in his hand addressed 
him as if he had been an assemblage. 

“ Shentlemen,” he proclaimed, speaking in a louder tone than 
he had used before, “ I drink to de law. De frient uff de guilty 
and de terror uff de innocent.” 

“ You are getting a little mixed, old man,” replied the good- 
natured official. 

” Ah, s’hdp me,” answered the old man after he had swallowed 
his liquor. ” I zee, I zee. Peg bardon, peg bardon. I said de 
frient uff de guilty and de terror uff de innocent, wen I should 
haff said de terror uff de innocent and de frient uff de guilty. 
Anyvay I shake your hand now, mine frient, and tank you for 
your osserbertality. If so be you should effer come my vay I 
vill return de same, s’help me.” 

With these kindly assurances the old gentleman took leave of 
the company and went his way to his lodging in the town, and 
thence next morning to other parts. His son was dragged, more 
asleep than awake, back to his cell, and left to snore off the effects 
of his carouse. There he remained for many days and many 


Which Tells of a Carousal at the Jail. 2gi 

weeks, for it was not known how the unruly hill folk would take 
the reversal of the verdict against him, and if they displayed an 
ugly temper he would probably be safer locked up at the capital 
of the State than if incarcerated elsewhere. 

Randolph Pearson, as the reader may easily imagine, was in 
no humor for jollifying on the evening of the important decision 
in the Ankerstrom case. He saw at once that it meant almost 
inevitably the final discharge of the prisoner without punishment 
for his fearful crime. Most probably the court itself had not 
realized that this was the necessary consequence of the decision 
rendered. In the vast mass of testimony included in the so- 
called bill of exceptions there might be ground for conviction 
after the statement of the murdered woman was excluded ; at 
least it was impossible for the court at the time the decision was 
rendered to say to the contrary. The attorney-general for the 
State had hardly dipped into the evidence in his brief argument, 
and Palaver’s skilful summing up of the facts disclosed by the 
voluminous record was of course taken by the experienced judges 
cum grano salis. When the case was reversed and remanded the 
judges had only disposed of the single legal question presented, 
Pearson, however, knew their decision was equivalent to a verdict 
of not guilty, and as he took his way homeward late on the same 
evening he bitterly reproached himself for having interposed be- 
tween the life of this brutal murderer and the vengeance of the 
mob. The train reached the station nearest his place of abode 
about nine o’clock at night. He mounted the horse he had left 
in waiting there, and rode forward in the darkness all alone to his 
residence, several miles away. As he went he revolved the whole 
matter seriously in his mind, and before he retired to rest his plan 
of action was determined upon. Pearson was a man who had the 
courage of his convictions, and, like the Apostle Paul, when once 
convinced that he had been in error he lost no time in changing 
his course and setting forth with zeal in a new direction. 

Teddy McIntosh was summoned next morning, and after a 
brief interview with Pearson rode over to consult the dignified 
and deep-voiced young man who held the distinguished position 
of Grand Cyclops of the Klan. Without his approval, indeed in 
the absence of his direct order, there could be no summoning of 
the members of the secret order to meet in council, and young 
McIntosh now was the bearer of a message from Pearson re- 
questing that a meeting be held at some date in the near future. 


292 


The K. K. K. 


Later on several riders were quietly going from house to house 
in different localities among the Marrowbone Hills, and before 
the following night had far advanced the entire brotherhood was 
notified. 

The season was too inclement to admit of a gathering in the 
open woods, and the klan therefore was summoned to assemble 
at an old deserted log house, in the chimney place of which a fire 
could be built, and whose dilapidated roof and walls would af- 
ford some protection from the weather. Snow began falling 
early in the evening set for the gathering, and fortunately con- 
tinued far into the night so that the track of those summoned to 
the rendezvous would be lost before next morning. Nearly all 
were present ; many had come on horseback, some on foot, and at 
the appointed hour they stood huddled close together in the 
single room of the old log building, bespeaking each other in low 
tones and stamping the.ir feet to keep the blood in circulation. 

When the opening ceremonies had been concluded, each mem- 
ber present being robed now in somber black gown and cap, the 
Grand Cyclops informed the attendant hobgoblins that the Su- 
preme Court of Tennessee had reversed the Ankerstrom case, and 
remanded the same for a new hearing to the court below. He 
had summoned the klan for the purpose of imparting this impor- 
tant intelligence, and to ascertain their further will in the mat- 
ter. A member then moved that the case of the murderer, Johan 
Ankerstrom, be taken up by the klan for immediate consideration. 
This being unanimously adopted, there was a moment’s silence, 
and then a motion was put, and unanimously carried, that the 
case be at once referred to the Dreadful Ulema for its decision. 
It was evident all were aware of the fact that some decisive ac- 
tion was to be taken to-night, for there was no hot discussion, no 
debate of any kind. The proposition to refer to the court of 
the order was promptly adopted, and all awaited in silence the 
final rendering of that tribunal. 

The delay was not long. There was a brief conference of the 
three members of the court in an old stable a little way ofif from 
the house, and this over they solemnly filed back into the room 
where about three dozen serious men awaited their coming. 
Pearson was the spokesman, and announced the conclusion of 
the court in clear, steady tones: “We find that Mrs. Susan 
Bascombe was murdered in this county nearly two years ago by 
a man known among us as Cross-eyed Jack, but whose real name 


Which Tells of a Carousal at the Jail. 


293 


is Johan Ankerstrom. We find that this murder was done at 
midnight, and that it was brutal, cowardly, and unprovoked. 
We find that the regular legal tribunals of the country, in con- 
sequence of certain rules by which they are bound, are incapable 
of dealing with the criminal as reason, justice, and the preserva- 
tion of order in this community demands. We therefore con- 
clude that the time has come for this brotherhood to act, and in 
announcing our decision we call God to witness that our conduct 
is not the result of passion, but springs from the deliberate con- 
viction that our homes and our good women must be protected 
at all hazards. For the murder of a good old woman at mid- 
night in a peaceful community we adjudge Johan Ankerstrom to 
be worthy of death, and our sentence is that by such means as 
may be hereafter determined upon he be taken from the custody 
of the regular legal authorities who have held him so long and 
at the spot where his brutal crime was committed be hung by 
the neck until he is dead.’’ 

In solemn silence this decision of the high court of the order 
was read, and not the slightest demonstration followed its con- 
clusion. In accordance with the regulations of the society the 
finding of the court was then submitted to the members for their 
ratification. A small box containing white and black balls was 
carried through the crowded assemblage, and each of those 
presen-t took therefrom two balls of different colors. The at- 
tendant then stood with his empty box near the judges, and the 
hobgoblines in silence, and robed in black, approached one by one 
and dropped a single ball into the receptacle. The sliding door 
was moved back as each drew near and closed again when the 
ballot had been deposited. When all present had voted the at- 
tendant drew the balls singly from the box and held it up in 
the feeble light for inspection. A single white ball drawn forth 
would for the present at least have annulled the decision of the 
court. The count was awaited with the utmost anxiety, and 
when it was concluded a deep sigh of relief went through the 
black-robed assemblage. By unanimous vote Johan Ankerstrom 
had been adjudged worthy of death. 

It was one thing for the klan to resolve that the prisoner in 
the Nashville jail should be sent out of the world for his mis- 
deeds, and another to take the necessary steps to carry this re- 
solve into execution. The whole matter was left to the discre- 
tion of a commitee, of which Pearson, while not named as one of 


294 


The K. K. K. 


the number, was the real head. It was determined that no vio- 
lent attempt to break into the jail should be made, but that by 
some stratagem custody should be obtained of the criminal’s per- 
son. This might require some further delay, but with the under- 
standing that all reasonable diligence should be used in the 
furtherance of this purpose the resolute regulators were content 
to wait. The die now was cast. At some date in the near future 
the scattered members of the klan would again be called together, 
this time to witness the execution of the wretch who by taking 
advantage of the “ law’s delays,” and the technical rules that 
hamper justice, had so long escaped the fate he richly deserved. 

Before the assembly dissolved, Pearson spoke a few words to 
his neighbors and friends gathered about him in the cheerless 
room. They were words not of apology, but of justification for 
himself and others in postponing so long the action that had just 
been taken. Mob law, or the infliction of punishment for crime 
by unauthorized citizens, he repeated was conduct not to be justi- 
fied in a community until it had been abundantly demonstrated 
that justice could not, or would not, be inflicted through the 
medium of the courts. Where the laws were capable of dealing 
with crime, where the courts could be relied on for the speedy 
administration of justice, mob law was never justifiable. It was 
almost suicidal, for when good citizens resorted to illegal vio- 
lence they encouraged the disorderly persons among them to pur- 
sue the same course. Moreover, when the good people of any 
community took the law in their own hands they advertised to the 
world that their laws were inefficient, or that they had no confi- 
dence in the officials whose duty it was to administer them. No 
matter how monstrous a crime was good citizens would always 
leave its punishment to the proper authorities if they believed an 
investigation would be speedily held and the guilty offender 
promptly made to pay the penalty. For these reasons he, and 
those who agreed with him, had hesitated long before advising 
that the murderer, Ankerstrom, should be dealt with by others 
than the legal authorities. Nearly two years had now passed, 
and apparently the punishment of the murderer was farther off 
than any one in the neighborhood had supposed it could be at 
the outset. The chances were all in favor of acquittal at the 
next trial of the prisoner before a jury, and even in the improb- 
able event of his conviction an appeal would again be taken by 
his attorney, and this would postpone the final decision of his 


Which Tells of a Carousal at the Jail. 


295 


case nearly, if not quite, a year longer. No blame at all was to 
be attached to the officials, said Pearson, who spoke calmly and 
temperately throughout his brief address. They were good men, 
the judges were conscientious, and undoubtedly learned in their 
profession. The trouble seemed to be that the law itself was not 
abreast with the times. In this business age to say that a guilty 
man cannot be punished until two or three years have elapsed 
after the commission of his crime is to say that justice is not to 
be administered without radical change in our laws. He, the 
speaker, believed at the outset that the murderer of the widow 
Bascombe would be speedily tried in open court and punished 
for his crime. So believing he resisted to the utmost any attempt 
to interfere with the due course of law. Now he saw his mistake, 
and as such crimes could not be permitted to go unpunished with 
a clear conscience, he recommended that the wronged people of 
the community take the law in their own hands and deal with the 
evildoer as he deserved. “ Mob law,” said Pearson in conclu- 
sion, “ is to be avoided, my friends, as long as possible because 
of the terrible mistakes it sometimes makes. Because of the fact 
that passion, and not sober reason, dictates its decrees. Because 
it begets contempt for the law in the minds of the evil disposed, 
who can only be controlled by respect for the law. Because it 
proclaims to the world that the community which resorts to it, or 
upholds it, is not wise enough to provide a regular method for 
prompt punishment of its criminals, but must accomplish this 
end, if at all, by spasmodic effort, made in a burst of passion. Mob 
law, wherever it may be found, and whatever the provocation that 
calls it forth, is a thing always to be deprecated by sober citizens. 
It is never to be justified except upon the ground that there would 
be otherwise a failure of justice, and whenever this excuse is 
offered it necessarily reflects upon the community in whose behalf 
it is presented. It is therefore with the utmost reluctance that 
I have at last consented to the execution of the plan upon which 
we have all agreed here to-night. I congratulate both you and 
myself upon the fact that our course has not been determined 
upon in haste, but after the display of so much caution and de- 
liberation that there is reason to fear the lesson of the murderer’s 
punishment will be lost upon the community. Many no doubt 
will be ready to censure us for our long delay, but wise people 
will see in it only our great reluctance to interfere with the law 
and the constituted authorities. I trust the time will soon 


The K. K. K. 


296 

come in Tennessee when a man may be arraigned for crime, given 
a prompt hearing in the courts in a plain, common-sense way, and 
speedily liberated or punished for his crime, as reason and jus- 
tice may dictate. When that time comes every good man will be 
glad to uphold the law, and the secret order of the K. K. K. may 
be disbanded forever.” 

The dull fire in the old house was entirely extinguished. There 
was the hum of low voices for a few minutes, and then the mem- 
bers of the klan disappeared and went their several ways in the 
thickly falling snow. 


Alabama Sam and De Little Ole White Man. 297 


CHAPTER XXX. 

THE UNGENTLEMANLY BEHAVIOR OF ALABAMA SAM AND DE LITTLE 
OLE WHITE MAN AT THE ABODE OF PATSY KINCHEN. 

Templeton had not been present at the meeting of the klan 
described in the last chapter. His home was in another county, 
and consequently it was not often he could be with his friends 
and brethren of the order at their gathering by night. He was a 
member in good standing, however, and very popular with them 
all, for he was generous, truthful, and, though a trifle impulsive, 
could always be relied on to exercise both courage and discretion 
when these qualities were needed. A fortnight or so after the 
klan had determined to take action in the Ankerstrom case he paid 
a visit to the Marrowbone Hills, remained all night and most of 
the following day at the Habersham habitation, and then, being 
somewhat of a lady’s man, as the reader knows, rode over to pay 
his respects to Miss Sue Bascombe. Templeton had a high re- 
spect for Miss Bascombe, considering her a fine girl with no non- 
sense about her, and besides she was associated with him in the 
K. K. K. hobgoblin league upon some dreadfully mysterious foot- 
ing which the author of this chronicle fully understands, but 
which he is not at liberty to divulge. 

When the young man reached the abode of the lady whom he 
proposed to honor with his call he was not particularly pleased to 
find a horse, with a man’s saddle, hitched at the rack. He thought 
perhaps it was Slowboy come again — for he had heard of the 
former visit of the lawyer, and his startling adventure in the hills 
— but upon entering the house found his sober friend Randolph 
Pearson comfortably settled in an arm-chair by the fire. Pear- 
son bade him a cheerful welcome — though he looked a little dis- 
concerted at his unexpected appearance — and the young lady 
gieeted him with a cordial handshake, which led him to conclude 
she was really glad to see him. 

We were discussing an interesting matter when you came 


The K. K. K. 


298 

in, Mr. Templeton,” remarked the girl after the three were seated, 
“and would like to have the benefit of your judgment upon it. 
Last year, as you will remember, my horse was stolen by a rather 
singular old man who passed himself off for a farmer. Not long 
before that your nag and Polly Habersham’s saddle horse were 
both taken on the same night by a rather singular old man, who, 
I think, passed himself off for a Bible agent.” 

“ No more o’ that if you love me,” cried Templeton, calling 
Falstaff to his aid. 

“ But it was so,” continued the young lady. “ Now nobody at 
that time could imagine who this little old man was, or where 
he came from, or, what was of more importance, where he went 
to immediately after concluding each of these business transac- 
tions. It was as mysterious — the sudden appearance and disap- 
pearance of this old gentleman — as the adventure that befell my 
friend, Mr. Slowboy, up yonder in the hills some time since, of 
which I suppose you have heard.” 

“ I have heard all about it,” quoth Templeton, breaking into a 
hearty laugh, ” and I’ll tell you what’s the fact ” 

“ Coming back to the point,” resumed Miss Bascombe, “ this 
same old man, or some other old man answering to his general 
description, has been dodging about in this neighborhood again 
of late, and we’re very sure he can be after no good. He has 
turned up at three or four farmhouses as a peddler, though he 
seems to have retired from the Bible business. Once or twice he 
and a tall black negro have been seen skulking together up in the 
hills, and only last night the two went to the house of Patsy 
Kinchen — the wife of Sandy, whom they hung — and got supper 
there. Patsy came over just now to tell me about it. She is in 
the kitchen now.” 

“ Fetch her in at once,'’ cried Templeton. “ I want to get on 
the track of that old Bible peddler if the thing can be accom- 
plished. If I had him out to one side now I’d make him think the 
Turks were a merciful people.” 

Patsy, being summoned, presently appeared at the front door 
of the residence. She scraped her feet a good while on the mat 
here before venturing in. Finally she trod as lightly as possible 
through the hall, and slowly turning the knob of the door that 
led into the company room she introduced her person sideways 
into that apartment. 

“ ’Devenin’, ladies and gen’lemun,” said Patsy politely, when 


Alabama Sam and De Little Ole White Man. 299 

she had closed the door behind her. “ ’Devenin’ Miss Sue. 
’Devenin’, Marse Ran. ’Devenin’, Mr. Unbeknowns.” (Patsy, 
had no acquaintance with Mr. R. L. Templeton.) 

“ Come in, Patsy,” said Sue, “ and tell us about the visit of the 
little old white man and the negro to your house last night.” 

“ Must I tell it ag’in, jess like I told it to you? ” 

“ Yes, begin at the beginning, and tell it all.” 

“ Wal, den, if so be I must,” began Patsy hesitatingly, “ and dar 
ain’t no help for it neither one way nor t’other, I s’pose Pd jest as 
well begin, and go right straight along wid it. Last night, den, 
ladies and gen’lemun, and Miss Sue, and Marse Ran, and Mr. 
Unbeknowns, whiles I was a sittin’ in my room wid my cob pipe 
in my mouth — supper having done been ett — and my boy Pete, 
like he in jineral do atter supper, was sittin’ up in de cornder 
’sleep; and de dog which dey calls Jineral Beauregard, sich bein’ 
his name, was likewise up in his cornder ’sleep ; de fust thing I 
know’d he riz, de dog did, and turn his ha’r de wrong way and 
growled. I say to myself, I say, ‘ Why hi, what dat dog growlin’ 
at ? ’ De words hadn’t hardly got out’n my mouth befo’ de door 
open — ’twa’n’t latched — and in comes de little old white man — 
what I told you ’bout. Miss Sue — and Alabama Sam dost at his 
heels. ‘ Coot efenin’, laty,’ say de little ole white man, a bowin’ 
mighty low.” (Patsy bowed herself here to the company, to 
show how the little old white man had bowed.) “ ‘ Coot efenin’, 
laty,’ he say ; and de very minit he called me lady I know’d he 
wa’n’t no gentleman. In dey bofe comes do, and Alabama Sam, 
which is given up to be de meanest nigger in all de country, he 
took a cheer widout bein’ axed. Den de little ole white man he 
bow ag’in, and spread his hands, and smile, and sidled over into 
de cornder, and took anodder cheer. And atter he done took his 
cheer he riz up all of a sudden and say to me, ‘ Laty, coot you gif¥ 
us a pite to eat ? ’ I got right up for to wait on him bekase I seed 
he was some kind of a furriner, and I was minded of dat furriner 
what got Sandy into his scrape. Whiles I was a fixin’ supper 
de little ole white man and Alabama Sam dey drawed dar cheers 
close togedder, and talk kinder low to one anodder. Ev’y now 
and den I could hear a word, and Pete heerd nigh onto ev’y 
word dat was spoke. Pete had done woke up, mind you, but 
didn’t let on dat he was woke up. De sum and substance of it 
all was dat dey was fixin’ to do sumpen what was gwine to raise 
hell in de country no sooner’n ’twas did.” (Whether the pro- 


The K. K. K. 


300 

fanity originated with Patsy, or was intended as a free quotation 
from the conversation of her visitors, did not appear.) “ What 
dat sumpen was dey was fixin’ to do dey didn’t zackly say, but 
from de roocus dey was spectin’ it to kick up it was bound to be 
wusser’n any common devilment. I went on fixin’ de table, and 
never saM nothin’ ’cause I know’d Alabama Sam was a mean 
nigger, and de little ole white man what kep’ company wid him 
wa’n’t no better’n him. Atter while dey bofe sot down to de table 
and ett up all de vittles dar was in reach. When dey got up de 
little ole white man bow low ag’in and spread his hands and say, 
‘ Cot pless you, mine frient,’ vdiich was mighty small pay for 
the vittles dey had ’stroyed. Den Pete he woke up sho nuff, and 
say we axed a quarter for supper. And Alabama Sam he says to 
Pete, ‘ We charges a dollar a piece for our company, and de fust 
time you git de change you kin hand me de balance wot’s cornin’ 
to us.’ Den dey bofe sot by de fire and smoked a while, and when 
dey riz to go de little ole white man he say to me : 

“ ‘ Vere your husspund, laty? ’ 

I say he was dead. 

“ ‘ Dot ish pad, dot ish pad,’ de little ole white man say. 
‘What make your husspund die? Vot de doctor say vos de 
matter ? ' 

“ I never say nothin’, and Alabama Sam he spoke up, and say, 
‘ De damn white folks in dese parts hung him kase he was a 
nigger.’ 

“ At dat de little ole white man flung up bofe his hands and 
shook his head and say, ‘ Mine Cot, vot a coontry, vot a peobles.’ 
Dem’s de very words he spoke. And atter dat de little ole white 
man and Alabama Sam took deyselves ofif, and I hain’t seed nary 
one of ’em sence.” 

When Patsy had concluded Mr. Bob Lee Templeton rose and 
remarked, “ That’s the very infernal scoundrel that took my 
horse. Patsy has hit him off to a T.” 

“ I think,” chimed in Miss Sue, ” he’s the very scoundrel that 
took my horse. Patsy’s account corresponds well with the de- 
scription given by Uncle Davy of the little old white man who 
rode Dandy Jim off through the middle of the town in broad open 
daylight.” 

“ I think,” said Pearson, who had been sitting by the fire mus- 
ing, “ I am safe in going one step farther and saying I know 
pretty well who the little old white man is. If I am not much 
znistaken I saw him on the steps of the State Capitol the day the 


Alabama Sam and De Little Ole White Man. 301 

Supreme Court rendered its decision in the Ankerstrom case. He 
there used the very words Patsy has put in his mouth — ‘ Cot pless 
you, mine frient ’ — and she has mimicked his tone and described 
his obsequious manner to perfection. The man I heard using 
the expression was addressing Palaver, Ankerstrom’s lawyer, and 
Palaver told the friend with whom he was walking that the old 
gentleman was the father of his client, and a most exemplary cit- 
izen in the State from which he came.” 

“ The devil,” says Mr. Bob Lee Templeton. 

“ Ladies present,” remarked Miss Sue. 

” De reason I come to tell you,” resumed Patsy, ‘‘ was bekase I 
seed dat nigger and white man was up to some devilment. And 
bekase dey ’stroyed my vittles widout bein’ invited. And bekase 
dey bemeaned our white folks by chargin’ up to dem what was 
did by dat low lived furriner. Cross-eyed Jack. And bekase de 
little ole white man called out, ‘ Mine Cot, vot a coontry, vot a 
peobles’ right dar in my house, and I wa’n’t used to sich lan- 
gwidges. Dat’s de reason I come.” 

You did exactly right, Patsy,” quoth Mr. Bob Lee Temple- 
ton, “ and here’s a dollar to pay for the vittles the two scoundrels 
destroyed. Now the next question is, which way did they go?” 

“ Dat I can’t say,” answered Patsy. “ Whar dey come from 
I dunno. Whar dey went to I dunno.” 

“ Well, Pll tell you what,” said Mr. Templefon. ‘‘ Pete found 
the scoundrel they call Cross-eyed Jack ” 

“ Pete and Jineral Beauregard done dat,” interrupted Patsy. 
“ De dog found him fust.” 

“ Very well,” said Templeton. “ Now let Pete and Jineral 
Beauregard find Jack’s daddy and there’s two dollars apiece for 
them here in my pocket. That is,” explained Mr. Templeton, 
“ there’s two dollars for Pete, and two dollars more, you under- 
stand, to be expended by Pete for the dog’s benefit.” 

“ Dat’s right,” said Patsy ; ‘‘ for de dog do need a brass col- 
lar, same as other gentlemanlike dogs has on.” 

Do you think Pete and Jineral Beauregard can find ’em?” 

“ Dey ain’t to tackle ’em atter dey come up wid ’em ? ” 

‘‘ No, just to find ’em and let me know where they are. Pll 
do the tackling when I come up with the little old white man.” 

“ You see, Patsy,”^ explained Miss Bascombe, “ the little old 
white man has in his possession several Bibles for Mr. Temple- 
ton, which he has failed to deliver.” 


The K. K. K. 


302 


That’s all right — that’s all right,” replied Mr. Templeton 
good naturedly. “You tell Pete to take his dog and go hunting 
for Alabama Sam and the little old white man, and as soon 
as he finds ’em, Patsy, to come back here, and let Miss Sue Bas- 
combe know where they are stopping. He can find ’em without 
taking any chances. If he came close upon them they wouldn’t 
hurt him.” 

” Dey ain’t gwy ketch him,” said Patsy, “ unless dey kin run 
mighty peert, Pete and de dog I b’lieves kin find out whar dey 
lodges ef you and Miss Sue and Marse Ran wants to know dat 
much about ’em.” 

” I would like very much to know, Patsy,” replied Pearson, 
” and I think your son can get this information for us more 
readily than any one else, and that too without his running any 
risk of getting hurt.” 

“ And de news is wuth four dollars to dis here Mr. Unbe- 
knowns ? ” inquired Patsy. 

” It’s worth five,” replied the generous Templeton. ‘‘ I’ll make 
it five, Patsy. Two for Pete, two for the dog, and one for you.” 

“ Nuff said,” replied Patsy promptly. ” Ef Pete and de dog 
kin make dat money by tromping round de country I’ll see dat 
dey do it. Dey been tromping all dey lives for nuthin’ ; now dey 
kin tromp a while for money.” 

Patsy having withdrawn from the room there was an earnest 
discussion over the intelligence she had brought. That the little 
old white man was a horse thief and a bold scoundrel generally 
was pretty certain. He had done much mischief in the neighbor- 
hood and was back presumably to do more. The jail was the 
place for him, and if he could be located his apprehension would 
soon follow. How he and his gang had secreted themselves and 
smuggled horses out of the country during the preceding year 
was still an unfathomed mystery, but one that would probably 
be solved if the ringleader could be caught and safely locked 
up. The fact that the old man was the father of the prisoner, 
Ankerstrom, would make the whole community especially glad 
to get hold of him, and the three persons who were now discuss- 
ing the matter could not resist the conclusion that his presence 
in the immediate neighborhood of his son’s crime had some con- 
nection with the future conduct of the case. Templeton would 
return to his home on the following day, and Pearson was about 
to take a trip to St. Louis on business which would probably de- 


Alabama Sam and De Little Ole White Man. 303 

tain him a week or more. It was therefore resolved between the 
three who sat in council that as soon as anything was learned of 
the whereabouts of the old man and his negro companion Sue 
Bascombe should promptly notify some member of the K. K. K. 
brotherhood and the arrest of the two villains should follow at 
once. Templeton was for having them before a called meeting 
of the klan and stringing them both up to a limb as soon as the 
formality of a moonshine trial could be gone through with. 
Pearson, however, set his foot down emphatically on this proposi- 
tion, and as he outranked Templeton in the order the latter was 
bound to acquiesce in his decision. Sue Bascombe sat by quietly 
while the rather heated discussion was going on, and took no 
further part in it than to remark that if the gentlemen desired to 
hang the old scamp who had stolen Dandy Jim there was a rope 
very handy in the barn. 


304 


The K. K. K. 


\ 


CHAPTER XXXL 

AN INTREPID LAD AND HIS DOG, HAVING TRAMPED ALL THEIR LIVES 
FOR NOTHING, CONCLUDE TO TRAMP A WHILE FOR PAY. 

When Patsy Kitchen reached her humble but snug abode in 
the hills she lost no time in notifying Pete and the dog of the 
high trust that had been reposed in them by the members of the 
conference in Miss Sue Bascombe’s parlor, and also of the liberal 
remuneration that awaited them in case of the successful per- 
formance of the allotted task. Patsy was honest, and explained 
to Pete — and also to the dog, who sat by and gave strict heed to 
her words — that five dollars was the sum promised for the faith- 
ful discharge of duty in the present case, of which she was to re- 
ceive a single dollar as promoter of the enterprise, while Pete and 
the dog were to divide the remaining four equally between them. 
It was explicitly stated for their edification that it was not their 
duty to engage the enemy, if they came into close quarers unex- 
pectedly, but they must rather consider themselves as a scouting 
party which was expected to obtain needed information at small 
risk, and which should always stand ready to beat a hasty retreat 
whenever an inclination for combat was discovered upon the op- 
posite side. While combat, however, was to be avoided, and 
danger to be shunned, Pete and Jineral Beauregard must bear in 
mind that their task was not accomplished when they merely 
came in view of Alabama Sam and de little ole white man, for 
Patsy herself had achieved this much upon the preceding evening. 
These worthies were to be tracked to their den, and word brought 
back, if possible, showing preciselv where they hid when not en- 
gaged in depredating upon the community, and whether or no any 
other evil-minded persons consorted with them. 

These matters being properly understood, Pete, with pardonable 
pride at being intrusted with so important a mission, set himself 
diligently to work to discover the whereabouts of Alabama Sam 
and de little ole white man. If he could once get on their trail 


An Intrepid Lad and His Dog. 305 

he anticipated no trouble in tracking them down to the place of 
their abode, which he made no doubt was at some of the many 
lurking places in the hills. He and Jineral Beauregard had 
scented out rabbits, coons, foxes, and other varmints, starting 
often on a very cold trail, and to trace so clumsy an animal as a 
human being to his retreat would be an easy job compared with 
following up a wary four-footed beast of the wood. The first 
trouble, however, was to once more get wind of the two marauders 
who had come uninvited to his mother’s house at night. Here he 
had more difficulty than he had anticipated, for though he ram- 
bled the country over for some days he neither saw nor heard of 
their having been at any other house, nor did he come upon 
either of them, as he supposed he would, tramping upon some one 
of the few roads in the country. The boy asked no questions, for 
to have done so might have disclosed the fact that he was inter- 
ested in the movements of the two vagabonds, but he kept his 
ears open, and his eyes open, and sought faithfully for a clue that 
followed up would introduce him once more to their acquaintance. 
Unless they had taken themselves entirely out of the country they 
must obtain food somehow, and this could only be done by openly 
applying for it, as at his mother’s house, or by depredating at 
night, which would certainly occasion, a stir when the theft was 
discovered. They might have laid up, like the thrifty squirrel, 
a winter’s supply in some hole, but Pete hardly thought this was 
probable, as they had not been heard of in the community until a 
few days previous, and they would have no motive that he could 
see in establishing permanent headquarters in the neighborhood. 
No horses had been stolen lately, no other wrongful appropriation 
of personal property had been made recently, except the larceny 
of a few shoats from a farmer’s fattening pen ; and this had been 
traced directly to the door of black Dave, who had owned up 
like a man and excused himself on the ground that he was short 
of meat. 

Pete was about to conclude that his game had sought another 
range, when one clear night — it was a warm spell in March, and 
the moon was shining bright as day — as he and Jineral Beaure- 
gard were wending their way homeward they both about the 
same moment became aware of the fact that some individual on 
foot was approaching from the opposite direction. Quietly drop- 
ping out into the bushes they waited for the pedestrian to pass, 
and as he went by at a long, steady stride the urchin was over- 


The K. K. K. 


306 

joyed to recognize in the traveler the identical colored gentleman 
who a short while before at his mother’s residence had placed 
such an extravagant estimate on the value of his own society. 
The unsuspecting footman passed on, and Pete, with Jineral Beau- 
regard at his. heels as soon as it was prudent to do so, 
dropped into the road behind him, determined to follow 
whithersoever he went. He was evidently bound for some 
particular spot, which was clearly fixed in his own mind, 
for he walked straight on, and did not saunter like a 
man who is not very particular whether he gets anywhere 
or not. The lad and the dog had no trouble in keeping 
on his track, for he deviated not from the road, and did not seem 
to fear observation, as was evidenced by the fact that he passed 
close to two or three farmhouses which sat immediately upon 
the roadside. He walked, too, so firmly that Pete when he 
stopped and listened could catch the sound of his footsteps, though 
the latter was careful not to get so nigh that the man he was 
shadowing could see him if he chanced to look back. After a 
tramp of three or four miles Alabama Sam left the main high- 
way and took another road that led off to the right. This was 
a much less frequented route, but Pete was familiar with it, for 
he had made tracks along nearly every highway and byway in 
ten miles of his mother’s house. He could now hear the steps of 
the man in front more distinctly, for the route was getting stony, 
and he and Jineral Beauregard kept on cautiously in pursuit. 
Presently the sound of the footsteps died out at about the point 
where Pete knew a little stream crossed the road. Advancing 
with more speed down to this stream Pete laid down, and, placing 
his ear close to the ground, listened for some moments. He 
heard no more steps on the stony road, but was surprised to hear 
a gentle splashing in the water above, as of some one wading up 
the creek. Picking his way along the bank he stopped again after 
going a short way, and became convinced that some object was 
wading upstream. It might be a cow, but if so what had gone 
with Alabama Sam? And if ’twas Alabama Sam, what motive 
could induce him to wade up the creek, when the dry land was bet- 
ter and speedier walking ? Pete was not, like Hamlet, a youth with 
whom the native hue of resolution was often sickbed o’er by the 
pale cast of thought, but was wont to act promptly in his business 
concerns without much cogitation either before or after the event. 
He now made a short detour, with the dog close at his heels, and. 


307 


An Intrepid Lad and His Dog. 

traveling more rapidly than it was possible for the man in the 
water to do, reached a large rock close to the mouth of the cave 
from which the stream issued. Behind this friendly shelter he and 
Jineral Beauregard hid themselves and awaited developments. It 
^yas not long before Alabama Sam hove in sight, wading as de- 
liberately as if he had been a kingfisher in search of a meal. The 
moon shone down brightly enough on the space immediately about 
the opening of the cavern, and Pete had no difficulty in recogniz- 
ing the long black African as he took his way upstream over the 
slippery stones. When he reached the mouth of the cave he did 
not step out onto the dry sandy space within, as Pete had sup- 
posed he would, but kept on wading straight upstream. The 
lad crept down close to the creek, and, lying flat on the ground, 
watched the man he had shadowed for more than five miles. 
When he had disappeared in the utter darkness of the cavern Pete 
crossed over the stream and made his way forward along the dry 
bottom, on the left edge of which the little creek ran. There was 
no danger now of being seen, for he and the negro in front were 
both in total darkness. He had been the route many times 
and knew precisely where the cavern forked into two channelsj 
the one, broad and easily trodden, leading far back into the in- 
terior of the hill, the other, low and narrow, and its bed entirely 
covered by the rushing stream. He had supposed, of course, 
that the man in front would here leave the water and fol- 
low the broad passage trodden by all who cared to explore the 
cave. No one that he knew of had ever ventured far up the nar- 
row opening through which the swift current of water wound its 
way, and the general impression was that at short distance above 
the volume of water filled the entire channel and rendered it im- 
passable for any creature. As the lad, trusting to the favoring 
darkness, pressed forward more rapidly he came near being dis- 
covered, for at the parting of the ways Alabama Sam halted and 
struck a match. The light illumined the cavern for some dis- 
tance back, but Pete slunk into the deep shadow and watched him. 
He had drawn a small lantern from his bosom, which he pro- 
ceeded to light, dropping the match into the water. The lad 
observed that he had taken off his shoes and trousers, having these 
tied about his neck. Pausing here only a moment to light his 
lamp, the negro man, to Pete’s astonishment, instead of proceed- 
ing along the main passage of the cave, continued wading on up 
the stream, and soon disappeared behind a curve in the channel. 


The K. K. K. 


308 

Pete Kinchen had in him enough of the stuff that heroes are 
made of to induce him in this particular emergency to sacrifice all 
thought of personal safety to the cause he had rashly espoused. 
As soon as the lantern of Alabama Sam ceased to cast its ray along 
his path he promptly stripped himself of every rag of clothing he 
had on and made ready to follow, regardless of consequences. 
He calculated that as the man in front expected the water would be 
deep enough to reach his waist it would probably come up to his 
(Pete’s) neck, and made arrangements accordingly. Before set- 
ting out on this exceedingly hazardous venture Pete Kinchen took 
the precaution to grasp Jineral Beauregard by the throat and ad- 
minister to him a choking that carried much further would have 
extinguished life. By this seemingly unnecessary act of cruelty 
he admonished his friend and companion that in the further con- 
duct of the expedition the strictest secrecy must be observed and 
perfect silence maintained, whatever might befall. Pete had fre- 
quently before choked his dog into silence when the latter was in 
the act of becoming noisy upon inappropriate occasions, and thus 
an understanding was readily arrived at between them that when- 
ever it was inexpedient for the dog to use his voice this fact was 
to be signified to him by putting him for a while in a condition 
where he couldn’t use it. If the choking was moderate, and of 
short duration, Jineral Beauregard understood that for a brief 
while he was to refrain from loud demonstration. If it was se- 
vere and prolonged he was to emit no sound of any kind until 
Pete himself had broken silence, and thus served notice on him 
that the restriction was removed. In the present instance the 
choking was the most determined that had ever been admin- 
istered and made, as the event demonstrated, a profound impres- 
sion on the recipient. 

Pete Kinchen having choked Jineral Beauregard, as he thought, 
sufficiently, concluded by patting him gently on the head to assure 
him that the punishment had not been administered as a chastise- 
ment for fault committed, but by way of caution to him in the 
regulation of his future conduct. He th’en took his dog in his 
arms, and, without the slightest hesitation, waded up the swift 
creek after Alabama Sam. He was quicker of motion than the 
older negro, and more used to water, so that before he had waded 
many minutes he came in sight of the light again, or rather of the 
ray it threw upon the solid stone wall ahead of him. Sometimes 
he lost this ray, then again he found it, but he proceeded straight 


309 


An Intrepid Lad and His Dog. 

upstream all the while without halting, for there was no danger 
of missing the way. Once or twice he got a little nearer than he 
wished, but the man he was pursuing never thought to look back. 
The wading of the lad up the stream behind him did not attract 
his attention, for the splashing of the water against the sides of the 
cavern drowned all else. On the two went, or rather the three, 
the man unconscious that he was being watched, Pete determined 
to follow him to the end of his journey, Jineral Beauregard shiver- 
ing from cold and the novelty of his position, but mindful of the 
injunction to remain dumb, come what would. 

After many windings and turnings the light in front came to a 
stand, and Pete, peering cautiously forward, saw Alabama Sam 
sitting upon what he knew must be dry ground, drawing on his 
trousers. The lantern was deposited by his side, and, noting the 
surroundings closely, the lad discovered that here was another 
dry passage, while the channel through which the stream flowed 
led off in a different direction. The negro man now put on his 
shoes and took the time to tie them. Then he stood up, and, draw- 
ing a bottle from his pocket, held it to his lips long enough to 
swallov/ a considerable part of its contents. Having thus re- 
freshed himself he deliberately corked the bottle and ‘replaced it 
in his side pocket. All this while Pete Kinchen viewed him with 
a critic’s eye, and Jineral Beauregard was an interested observer 
of his movements. They both regarded him narrowly while he 
remained by the water’s edge, and Pete moved promptly forward 
as soon as Alabama Sam picked up his lantern and started away. 
The light was sparkling some distance ahead when the lad reached 
the water’s edge and released Jineral Beauregard, who could not 
refrain from cutting a gladsome but noiseless caper when he 
found himself once more on dry land. Guided by the friendly 
light Pete followed with but little difficulty, and was as close upon 
it as he dared to go when it suddenly disappeared from the pas- 
sage. But though the lantern itself was lost to view the passage 
still remained dimly lighted, showing it was not far away. Ob- 
serving now great caution the lad crept forward and had advanced 
but a little way when he heard the sound of human voices. He 
paused and listened, and then crept on again on his hands and 
knees. He could tell plainly now that the voices came from a 
side room, or niche, near the main passage. A dim light also 
struggled from this inner recess and partially dispelled the dark- 
ness of the passage without. Creeping nearer and nearer, and 


310 


The K. K. K. 


very slowly, the lad reached a point at last from which he could 
spy into the rough apartment from which the voices came. Here 
sat two individuals — Alabama Sam and de little ole white man — 
by a slow wood fire, which had almost died down to coals. 

When Pete Kinchen saw them sitting comfortably by the fire 
he suddenly became aware of the fact that he himself was shivering 
violently, and, rising in his place, he quietly moved his arms rap- 
idly over his head and twisted his body into all sorts of unnatural 
positions, thus forcing his blood into brisk circulation and working 
himself into something like a glow. He was hardy as a pine knot 
and the interior of the cavern was less trying upon him than the 
open air without would, at that season of the year, have been. 
After having administered to himself a sharp lesson in gymnastics 
the lad crouched near the entrance way into the recess and sought 
to catch the drift of the conversation between the two men. They 
spoke in low tones, and yet were not particularly guarded in their 
utterances, since neither dreamed that an interloper was near at 
hand. 

“ Wal,” said the negro, ‘‘ I ain’t in much fix for takin’ de road 
ag’in, but if dis here thing’s to be did at all it’s got to be did to- 
morrow night. Dat man’s a cornin’ home on de train to-morrow 
evenin’. He’ll ride by his lone self from de deppo, along de ridge 
road, to de place whar he lives. Dat much I done found out, and 
dat much kin be depended on. If we don’t git him on dat ride we’d 
better clean out from dis country and let him alone for good and 
all. For my part, I don’t hanker arter dis job no how, and I’d a 
heap ruther throw it up right here, and now, than to go furder 
with it.” 

“ Lizden at dot,” replied the little ole white man. I didn’t 
know you vos pigeon-livered, Zammy.” 

“ I don’t like dis job,” replied the negro. Dat’s what I said, 
and I sticks to it.” 

“ Veil veil,” said the little old white man, shaking his head, ‘‘ vill 
vonders nefifer cease? Mine frient Kervackenparse show de vite 
fedder? No, no. Tis is some otter person I zee pefore me, and 
not mine frient Zam. Mine frient Zam Kervackenparse iss a prave 
man and no coward.’' 

Who said I was a coward ? ” inquired the negro in a blustering 
way. 

“ No von, no von, Zam,” replied the'old man. Vooeffer sess 
tat iss a liar, and de trute iss not in him.” 


An Intrepid Lad and His Dog. 31 1 

You stick to dat,” said Sam, “ and you won’t miss it fur. 
Bar’s plenty of jobs a man don’t hanker arter, and yit if he’s 
passed his word he’ll go through wid ’em or die. Leastwise 
he will if he’s de right kind of a man.” 

“ Ah, tat iss Zam Kervackenparse talkin’,” replied the old man 
earnestly. “ Tat iss mine frient Zam.” He dr^w a long black bot- 
tle from the heap of straw near him and held it high in his hand. 

I trink to mine frient Zam,” he exclaimed. “ Vooeffer puts der 
troost in him vill not pe dizzerpointed.” 

The old man here took a swig at the bottle and passed it to the 
negro, who, though he had just imbibed, took another long 
swallow. 

“ Git my gun ready,” said the negro, seemingly emboldened 
by his liquor. “ If this thing’s got to be did I must be off to- 
night.” 

“ Vot ! ” exclaimed the old gentleman. Not to-night, Zam? ” 

“ I done told you,” replied Alabama Sam, ‘‘ dat dis here man 
Pearson is a cornin’ home ter-morrow night widout any fail. He’s 
done writ a letter back tellin’ ’em to send his boss to de deppo, and 
ter-morrow mornin’ a boy is gwy take his hoss to de deppo and 
leave him dar. De boy will come straight back in de day time, and 
ter-morrow night Ran Pearson will ride home by hisself in de 
night time. Dat is, he will ride part of de way home. Whedder 
he’ll make de whole trip is anodder question.” 

The old man here clapped himself on the thigh and laughed 
softly. “ Tat iss Zam Kervackenparse talkin’,” he exclaimed. 
“ Tat iss mine frient Zam.” 

“ Now,” said the negro, “ if dis thing’s to be did dar ain’t but one 
way to do it, and dat’s de right way. Ran Pearson, I done told 
you, will ride de ridge road, and de lonesomest part of dat road is 
de long hollow about five mile from de deppo. Dar is a great big 
sycamore tree standin’ close to de road, and a man behind dat 
tree kin git a good range on anodder man ridin’ down de road 
to’ds him. Right dar is de place to fix him, if it’s de plan to fix 
him at all.” 

“ Don’t say if, Zammy,” replied the old gentleman. “ Leaf off 
dat ‘ if,*’ mine frient.” 

Well, den, dar’s de place to fix him,” said the negro. “ And 
if I’m de man what’s got to do de fixin’, I’d oughter be at de place 
by daylight ter-morrow mornin’. I’d oughter travel to de place 
in de night time, and not in de day time, and I’d oughter hide dar 


312 


The K. K. K. 


in de bushes all day, so as to be rested by de time dis here Ran 
Pearson comes along. When he rides up to dat sycamore tree I 
want to be fresh and at my best. And when Pve sent a ball 
through his head and made sho he’s dead as a mackerel, I want to 
skip out from dar and run like hell. Dat’s me.” 

“ Dat iss mine frient Zam Kervackenparse talkin’,” replied the 
old man. “ Vooeffer calls mine frient a coward iss a liar, and de 
trute iss not in him.” 

‘‘ Dey won’t s’picion me,” continued the negro, “ if nobody sees 
me gwine to'ds de place and nobody sees me cornin’ away.” 

“ Dot iss ver’ true,” replied the old gentleman. 

” Dey’ll say, too,” continued the negro, “ dat I didn’t have no 
motive for killin’ Ran Pearson, and, sence I come to steddy ’bout 
it, damn me if I have got any motive for killin’ him.” 

Zam,” said the old gentleman seductively, “ dot iss de ver’ rea- 
son vy you should kill him. If Pm took up for murter te tamn 
lawyers vill say, ‘ He hail a motifif;’ and dey vill hang me. If you 
pe took up dey vill zay, ‘ He haff no motiff ;’ and zo you vill go 
free as te ’appy pird. Dot pein zo, mine frient, you must do de 
killin’, and I must make retty to prufe a hallerpy. Let eifry man 
tend to his own part ui¥ de piziness.” 

” All right, boss,” replied the negro. ‘‘ I ain’t never flickered 
yit when I was called on to do my part of a ugly job, and I ain’t 
apt to flicker dis time. I must be fifteen miles away from here 
by daylight, and dat means I got to walk all night. I’ve walked 
already good ten miles to-day, and my legs will be tired when I 
gets to dat sycamore tree on de ridge road. I kin give ’em a long 
rest though ter-morrow. Dar’s some comfort in dat.” 

“ Mine frient Kervackenparse,” said the old gentleman, rising 
and bowing respectfully, “ I haff to zay dot I admires you ver’ 
much. I do, s’help me. Your sgin iss plack, Zam, but your ’art 
iss in de right blace.” 

After extending this neat compliment the old gentleman walked 
round the fire and shook hands cordially with his friend. The 
two now made hurried preparations for the departure of the negro, 
who rejected all invitations to stay longer in the cavern, saying he 
would rest from time to time on the wayside as he journeyed 
that night. After the assassination of Pearson he and the old gen- 
tleman would meet at a designated spot beyond the borders of the 
State, to which point the negro was to hurry, tramping likewise all 
of the following night. 


313 


An Intrepid Lad and His Dog. 

Zam,” said the old gentleman by way of parting injunction 
when the negro was ready to start, “ pevare uff te pottle. Trink 
iss coot to cheer te zoul, but dere iss times, mine frient, ven de 
head needs to be gool more tan de zoul needs to be cheered. 
Keep gool, Zammy ; keep gool, mine frient ! ” 

Seeing they were about to depart Pete and his dog stole back 
along the passway toward the stream. They kept ahead of the 
light as the two men emerged into the passage, and at one of the 
many broken places in the cavern wall the boy crouched low for 
the negro and the old man to pass. They went by engaged in 
talk, the lantern throwing its rays straight ahead. When they 
reached the water’s edge the negro again disrobed himself to the 
extent of taking off his shoes and trousers, tying these around his 
neck as before. He then took the lantern in his hand and bade 
the old man good-by. 

‘‘ Zam,” said the old gentleman as he wrung the negro’s hand 
affectionately — “ Kervackenparse, mine frient, vateffer iss vurt 
doing at all iss vurt doing veil. Make no miztake, mine frient, 
make no miztake. Vix him zo de shudge vill uxcuse him for not 
pein at te court next time. Vix him zo he vill not meddle mit 
otter people’s pizness neffer agin, Zammy, in dis vorld.” 

“ You ’pend on me, boss,” replied the negro. With this part- 
ing assurance he stepped into the swift stream and began his slip- 
pery walk down the current. The old man watched him till the 
glimmer of the lantern no more lit the thick darkness of the cav- 
ern. After the light had entirely disappeared he sat down by the 
water’s edge and communed with himself a while before returning 
to his more cheerful quarters by the fire. 

‘‘Ah me, tis vorld iss full of throoble and onpleasantness. I vish 
dat peoble in dis vorld vould mind dere own pizness and not 
meddle. I do, s’help me. Dere vent avay shust now mine colored 
prudder and mine own thrue frient. Vot for mine colored prudder 
and mine own thrue frient go out and tramp de lonesome road dis 
night ? It iss pecause de tamn man, Perryerson, vill not mind his 
own pizness. He vill meddle, meddle, meddle; and dat vy mine 
frient Kervackenparse must tramp de lonesome road dis night and 
do de shob he haff promise. Meppe dis night vork vill git mine 
frient Kervackenparse into throoble. Meppe so, meppe so. If zo 
I vill stand py mine frient Kervackenparse like a prudder and a 
shentleman. I vill, s’help me. I vill stand py mine frient Ker- 
vackenparse till hell freeze ofer. I vill, I vill. If dey gits him in 


314 


The. K. K. K. 


de shall I vill hire me a lawyer for him if it cost pig money. I vill 
hire me a coot lawyer vot vill speak de law plain to de shudge and 
de tamn shury, and tell dem trutes vot dey should mind. If so pe 
de tamn man, Perryerson, as he coom along raise his arm to svitch 
his ’orse, dot vill pe sel-luff devense for Zam. If he shake his 
head, tviddle his fingers, make any common motion, dot vill pe 
sel-luff devense, for nobody can tell, mind you, vot he half a no- 
tion to do next. Dot iss de p’int. It iss not so much vat a man do, 
mind you, dot make sel-luff devense, but vat he may haff a notion 
to do next. And if zo pe te tamn man, Perryerson, do not’ing at 
all ; if he coom along vast asleep, and Zam shoot him dead, dot 
vill pe inzanity, for dere vill pe, mind you, no motiff dat peoble 
can zee, and de absence of motiff go alvays to show inzanity. Dis 
vot de coot lawyer vill say to de shudge and te tamn shury, and if 
dey do not lizden to him de coot lawyer vill not mind, for dere vill 
still pe leff de plessed hallipi and de onreasonable doubt. So valk 
on, valk on, mine frient Kervackenparse ; valk on, mine colored 
prudder, and do de shob vot you promise, and haff no fear. I 
vill act like de shentleman if throoble coom, and hire me a coot 
lawyer for you, and stand py you, mine frient Kervackenparse 
till hell freeze ofer. I vill, I vill.” 

The old man’s voice here died away, and for some moments 
longer he sat in silence by the water’s edge. Then he resumed 
his soliloquy in a less confident tone: 

“ But vot for I zay vot I say? If mine frient Kervackenparse 
do de shob vot he promise, and dey gits him, he vill nefifer zee de 
shall. He vill haff no need for de coot lawyer vot I hire ; for de 
tamn mob vill hang him so kevick as hell vould scorch a fedder. 
Mine Cot, mine Cot, but dis iss a heathen coonthry. Valk on, 
valk on, mine frient Kervackenparse ; valk on, mine colored prud- 
der ; but if dey gits you you vill pe in von hell of a vix. Ah me, 
I vish dot effry man in dis vorld vould mind his own pizness. I 
do, s’help me. But dey vill not, and dat vy my frient Kervacken- 
parse must valk de lonely road dis night, and do de shob vot he 
haff promise, and take de conze-ke-vences. Coot-py, mine colored 
prudder ; if de tamn mob hang you up like a dog I vill not forgit 
you. Coot-py, coot-py, mine own thrue frient; your sgin iss 
plack, but your ’art iss in de right blace.” 


315 


Terrific Combat in the Cavern. 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

TERRIFIC COMBAT IN THE CAVERN BETWIXT PETE KINCHEN, JIN- 
ERAL BEAUREGARD, AND DE LITTLE OLE WHITE MAN. 

From his post against the cavern wall Pete Kinchen had watched 
with interest the proceedings by the water side, and heard every 
word uttered either by the two before parting or by de little ole 
white man in the melancholy soldoquy set forth in the last chapter. 
When the light had entirely disappeared he rose, tired of his 
crouching position, and stood close against the wall, with his dog 
at his heels. There was no danger now of observation, and as 
soon as de little ole white man had returned to his dram bottle and 
his fire Pete would follow Alabama Sam down the creek, and, after 
resuming his raiment, would proceed without delay to give Miss 
.Sue Bascombe the benefit of the highly important information that 
had come into his possession. He shot his arms out in the dark- 
ness again and gave himself another lesson in gymnastics as he 
stood waiting the time when the coast would be clear, and he 
might set forth, with his dog in his arms, on his wet, winding, and 
slippery journey to the outer world. 

Some time in the pitch dark de little ole man sat by the water’s 
edge, soliloquizing occasionally, revolving deep problems in his 
mind, warmed up, no doubt, occasionally by the liquor that had 
gone down his throat. Finally, in pensive mood, he rose and set 
forth on his return to his quarters, being minded when he got 
there to take one more stout drink for a nightcap and then to 
tumble into bed. He knew the route perfectly, but as he went 
thrust his hand out at every few steps to touch the wall on his 
right, and thereby avoid butting his head against some rough pro- 
jections that he remembered to be on the left side. It came to 
pass after he had thus steered his course a short distance, that as 
his right hand went forth on one of these errands he laid it in a 
friendly way on the body of Pete Kinchen, who was standing close 
against the wall with not the slightest idea that such a misadven- 
ture was about to befall him. 


The K. K. K. 


316 

When Robinson Crusoe came unexpectedly upon a human foot- 
print in the sand on his desert island he was appalled, and rashly 
concluded that the devil had put it there. Crusoe made his amaz- 
ing discovery, be it remembered, in the broad open day time, and 
had leisure to stand round and moralize on the singular spectacle 
that had arrested his attention. What was his experience com- 
pared with that of our worthy old friend, who groping his way 
toward his lonely couch suddenly encountered in the thick dark- 
ness and dead stillness of a cavern some cold, slick, quivering 
object concerning which he could feel assured at the time of noth- 
ing more than that it was alive. Did any of you, my friends, in the 
ups and downs of life ever meet with just such an adventure as 
that ? I dare say not, and if not you can no more imagine the old 
gentleman’s sensations at the moment than I can describe them, 
which I shall not be rash enough to undertake to do. 

As for cogitation on the subject of his discovery there was time 
for none, for as the old gentleman laid his open hand unwittingly 
on the cold, slick something his fingers unconsciously clutched in 
the effort to grasp it, and on the instant Pete shot out his right fist 
with such vigor as to cause de little ole white man, though a half- 
mile under ground, to see stars. 

All alone, and in pitch darkness, the old gentleman, if strictly 
sober, would most probably have turned and fled from his un- 
known adversary. But he was, as the reader knows, a little the 
worse, or rather, a little the better, for liquor, and his courage, 
therefore, considerably outran his discretion. I do not mean he 
was drunk, for the old gentleman was not drunk, but simply that 
he had been elevated into that frame of mind which makes a man 
do and dare lofty things. Whatever our prohibition friends may 
say to the contrary, I maintain, with St. Paul, that good liquor, 
taken in moderation, is excellent for the stomach, and likewise 
worketh well upon other parts of the system, making a man 
oftentimes bold at a moment when it is incumbent upon him to dis- 
play valor. This was exactly the case on the present occasion with 
the old gentleman, and, finding himself assaulted without provoca- 
tion, he struck out blindly in the dark on his own account and tried 
to give the party of the second part — whoever or whatever it 
might be — a Roland for an Oliver. Thereupon the two clinched, 
and tussled, and shuffled, and strove mightily, up and down, and 
sideways, and every way, in the terrific blackness of the cavern. 
Now it would have seemed to the casual observer — if a casual ob- 


Terrific Combat in the Cavern. 317 

server had been possible — that Pete was getting tlie better of the 
exciting contest, and now it would have seemed that de little ole 
white man was slightly in the lead ; but they fought and fought 
with varying success and unabated vigor, and, of course, without 
the slightest encouragement from outside source to brace up either 
one or the other. 

In penning the last paragraph I wrote without reflection. Jin- 
eral Beauregard when hostilities began was crouching betwixt 
Pete’s legs, shivering violently, and turning over in his mind such 
matters as presumably would occupy the mind of a dog in his pe- 
culiar situation. As soon as he became aware that a flght was in 
progress — and it took him not more than an instant to grasp this 
fact — he mixed up in it with the full intent to aid his friend as 
much as he could and do the enemy all the damage possible. In 
furtherance of this laudable purpose he sidled round and round 
the combatants, avoiding Pete’s lower extremities, and making 
snatches at de little ole white man’s legs as often as he could with 
safety seize upon one of these. At first he made naturally a few 
mistakes, and more than once got a taste of Pete’s meat when it 
had been his design to forage upon the enemy. After a brief ex- 
perience, however, he was enabled, either by the help of instinct or 
reason, to avoid such awkward mistakes altogether. His nose no 
doubt was cunning enough to detect the flavor of Pete’s legs, and 
to restrain his mouth as soon as he concluded to subject the latter 
to the guidance of the former. Moreover, his friend’s legs were 
bare, while those of the enemy were clothed in the usual habila- 
ments of the masculine human. The combat, therefore, had hardly 
passed its incipient stage before Jineral Beauregard knew as well 
when and where to use his jaws as if some one had been standing 
by with a candle to enable him to act with discretion in the matter. 
Fortunately for de little ole white man he wore next to his person 
a thick buckskin undersuit, which he had adopted as a protection 
against the raw atmosphere of the cavern, and which now served 
him as a safeguard against the vengeance of Jineral Beauregard’s 
teeth. That heroic animal waged incessant war upon the lower ex- 
tremities of his antagonist, who was so busily engaged otherwise 
that he could take no other notice of the dog’s repeated assaults 
than now and then to give a vigorous kick at him in the dark. 
Finally discovering that his bite was not doing as much damage 
as he contemplated the four-footed combatant rushed in upon the 
biped he wished to embarrass, and, fixing his teeth firmly in the 


The K. K. K. 


318 

woolen and buckskin leggings of the latter, held on thereto like 
grim death. Jineral Beauregard was a dog of great firmness and 
singleness of purpose, and when he fixed his mind on a thing di- 
rected all his ideas and energies in that direction to the complete 
oblivion of everything else. So having firm hold now on the lower 
habiliments of de little ole white man, he shut his eyes tight — 
though he could not have seen a wink if they had been wide open — 
clinched his jaws with a lasting grip, and made ready to stay by 
his antagonist to the end of the combat, and not to turn loose then 
until he was choked ofiF. He tugged and tugged, swung round and 
round with the struggling bipeds, and seemingly had no more idea 
of losing his hold than if his mouth had been a patent time lock 
that would only come open at a certain fixed hour in the future, 
no matter what effort might be made to unkey it sooner. 

At this stage of the engagement I would call the reader’s atten- 
tion to an important fact which gave no small advantage to Pete 
and Jineral Beauregard, and militated greatly against de little ole 
white man in the combat. 

Pete Kinchen knew precisely who it was that was engaging his 
attention at the moment ; beyond all question Jineral Beauregard 
understood it was human legs he was operating upon ; but de little 
ole white man had not the slightest inkling as to the nature and 
fashion of the creatures that had so unexpectedly beset him deep 
down in the bowels of the earth. There were two or three circum- 
stances which, as the reader must agree, were calculated to add 
to his perplexity and raise in his mind a reasonable doubt as to 
whether his foemen, either or both, were of the human species, or, 
indeed, were creatures of this earth at all. 

Imprimis, not the slightest sound had been emitted by any of the 
participants in this curious combat. De little ole white man himself 
refrained from giving voice to his distress because he knew he had 
no friend in the cavern, and to cry aloud might bring down on him 
legions of other creatures similar to those he was now contending 
with. Pete Kinchen persistently held his tongue because he appre- 
ciated the advantage he was reaping by keeping de little ole white 
man completely in the dark as to who and what his antagonist 
was, and because he feared if he spoke his opponent would recog- 
nize the voice of a child and be emboldened thereby. Jineral 
Beauregard maintained profound silence for the sufficient reason 
that he had been given to understand — by the choking process 
heretofore mentioned — that he must be literally a dumb brute un- 


Terrific Combat in the Cavern. 


319 


til his commanding officer had given notice that his vocal organs 
might once more be brought into play. So they all went round 
and round, doing such mischief as they could, but raising no 
other noise in the cavern than that of a light scraping upon the 
loose sand of the floor. Presently the fact that this most as- 
tounding battle was being waged altogether in silence became 
deeply impressed upon the mind of de little ole white man, and it 
awed him. 

Another circumstance which added to the perplexity of the 
hard-pressed tenant of the cavern — who felt he had rights there, 
if anybody had rights — was the singular method of waging war 
adopted by the two creatures who were leagued against him. The 
creature at his heels he might have taken for some kind of a var- 
mint, but what varmint was it that, emitting no cry, would attach 
itself to a man’s raiment, and seem content to live and die in that 
position? De little ole white man was not a backwoodsman, but 
he had never seen such a varmint, and did not remember ever to 
have heard or read of such a one. But again, what awful, slick, 
cold, slippery thing was this that now he held in his arms, and now 
he didn’t, and that fought as never human creature fought on this 
planet since time began ? 

I would have the reader bear in mind in this connection that 
Pete Kinchen, while conducting this engagement, was — as we 
Latin scholars would say — in piiris naturalibns, which signifies, 
being interpreted, in his birthday suit ; or, to put it even more 
pointedly, stark naked. His method of fighting was not uncom- 
mon among the negro boys with whom he usually consorted, but 
it was brand new to the old gentleman with whom he was now 
struggling for the mastery. De little ole white man was tough, 
and, while undersized, was strong and active for one of his years. 
He had been in his time somewhat of a scrapper, and thoroughly 
understood the Queensbury rules and all the other rules that gov- 
ern gentlemen who have been trained in the noble and manly art 
of fisticuffing. He could box with the best, would not sully his 
reputation by striking his antagonist below the belt, and in wrest- 
ling could give the man in his arms such a squeeze that it would 
crack his bones. All these achievements were easy to de little ole 
white man, and consequently when drawn into a personal en- 
counter he usually began in confidence and concluded in triumph. 
But what of this unmannerly creature that never had heard tell of 
the Queensbury rules, or if familiar with them considered himself 


320 


The K. K. K. 


for some reason at liberty to disregard them all ? What kind of a 
thing was that that bit, scratched, butted, pounded, tripped, and all 
the while skipped about with such marvelous agility that violent 
hands could not be laid on him at all ? What kind of a thing was 
it that did all this while emitting no sound, and that was likewise 
soft, cold, slippery, and smooth upon the surface? It was not 
shaggy. It was not a wild beast. It was not a sea lion escaped 
from a menagerie. It could not be a snake skipping about in this 
mad fashion. “ Py Apraham und te prophets^ vot is it?’’ ex- 
claimed the mystified old gentleman to himself, but, mind you, 
altogether to himself, for he spake no word above his breath. 

I remarked a few sentences back that good liquor taken in gen- 
tlemanly doses had a tendency to elevate the soul and infuse manly 
courage into the human breast. I hav/s been likewise informed by 
those who claim to speak from experience that it will make the 
best man in the world a little unsteady upon his pins. However 
proudly he may carry himself, and howsoever confident he may be 
of his ability to achieve wonders, there is always danger that he 
will find at the critical moment his lower limbs not readily respon- 
sive to his will, so that it behooves him at all times to bear in mind 
the scriptural injunction, “ Let him that standeth beware lest he 
fall.” Now our worthy friend — known to the Kinchen family as 
“ de little ole white man ” — had been considerably emboldened by 
the strong waters that had gone into his stomach, and had thus 
been induced to do battle manfully against unknown creatures in 
the dark, but he did not possess perhaps quite that agility which 
he might have displayed if his head and heart had both remained 
entirely cool. He fought with more vigor, but without that discre- 
tion he would otherwise have exercised when contending against 
shifty foemen. It therefore came to pass that when at a certain 
stage of the combat Pete Kinchen with his heel knocked one of his 
feet forward, and Jineral Beauregard at the same moment by hard 
tugging pulled the other backward, the old gentleman was thrown 
from his balance and fell, considerably to his own surprise, flat 
of his back upon the ground. No sooner had he sustained this 
serious reverse than Pete Kinchen boarded him and began feeling 
for his neck with the evident intention of throttling him, and at 
the same instant Jineral Beauregard released the hold he had so 
long maintained upon his trousers leg and sprang upon him as if 
he had been a coon just dropped to earth from the limb of a tree. 
If these two zealous coadjutors counted, however on making a 


Terrific Combat in the Cavern. 


321 


finish of their prostrate enemy there and then, they reckoned 
without their host. De little ole white man was wiry and muscu- 
lar, and had no notion of ending his existence ingloriously in the 
black depths of a cavern, and at the instance of two such foes as 
he found himself pitted against. Hardly had he measured his 
length upon the ground and felt Pete’s clutch about his windpipe, 
before, with vigorous effort of both arms and legs, he hurled into 
outer darkness the creatures that had been atop of him, and, 
springing nimbly to his feet, ran swiftly toward his private apart- 
ment not very far off in the cavern. 

No sooner had de little ole white man deserted the field and 
turned his back ingloriously upon the enemy, than was demon- 
strated in those who had made a combined assault upon him the 
difference between instinct and reason. Peter Kinchen, being 
mentally able to weigh facts and draw conclusions, did not believe 
that de little ole white man was fleeing in terror, but rather that his 
purpose in retiring so speedily was to arm himself and renew the 
combat with deadly weapons. He therefore, as soon as the old gen- 
tleman set out, took to his own heels in the opposite direction and 
endeavored to widen the distance between them as rapidly as pos- 
sible. Jineral Beauregard, however, being incapable of balancing 
probabilities in his narrower mind, followed blind instinct and 
gave chase as soon as he found the object of his fury was endeav- 
oring to escape. 

Pete Kinchen did not rush forward with reckless speed, but, 
keeping his left hand always in touch with that side of the cavern, 
he made all the haste possible, and did not even slacken his gait 
when his feet and bare legs became submerged in the swift current 
of the stream. He went on — plunging down the current in the 
darkness — and had turned the first decided curve when he heard 
the sharp report of a pistol ringing through all the narrow corri- 
dors of the cavern. Almost at the same moment Pete Kinchen 
heard another sound that brought him to a halt at once and caused 
his heart to give a great leap in his bosom. It was the agonized 
cry of a dog, and that dog he knew was Jineral Beauregard. 

Promptly the lad turned back and waded upstream again until 
he reached the sandy bottom of the dry passage. Here he waited 
a long time, but not the slightest sound of any kind fell on his ear. 
Once or twice he whistled very softly to notify the little dog he was 
in waiting, but his faithful companion did not respond. Then the 
truth forced itself home on the mind of the child, and he bowed 


322 


The K. K. K. 


his head and wept bitterly, but in silence. His dog was dead. The 
trusty little fellow, he knew, would not have uttered a sound had 
not the cruel bullet forced a cry of anguish from him; and even 
then had life been spared he would have crawled down the dark 
I)assage to the water’s edge, to join there the companion whose 
kindly signal had summoned him. His dog was dead. The com- 
rade of many a tramp through field and wood, his closest friend 
and playmate, he would see no more. 

Turning his steps again downstream the boy, with choking sobs 
and scarcely conscious of whither he was going, took his way 
through the winding channel and reached the spot where he had 
left his clothing. Hastily he resumed his two or three garments 
and passed onward to the mouth of the cave and thence down the 
declivity to the road that ran beyond. As he went his grief over- 
mastered him, and, unable to restrain himself, he quickened his 
pace and ran, sobbing and crying aloud, a long way Then he 
halted and sat down by the root of a large tree, where he and the 
dog had rested more than once before. Against this he leaned his 
head, having no heart to rise and go further. His burst of grief 
was over, but broken sobs again and again escaped him as he re- 
clined his head against the rough bark of the tree and bent his 
heavy eyes aimlessly into the shadows of the night. 

In one of the most pathetic passages of holy writ we are told 
that when the Saviour of mankind sought a few of his compan- 
ions at the darkest period of their cheerless lives He found them 
sleeping for sorrow. It is a blessed provision of our frail nature 
that whenever in the hour of some great trouble keen misery holds 
and racks us beyond the power of human endurance, our over- 
wrought faculties at last find relief in slumber. Out in the lonely 
wood, stretched now upon the bare, cold earth, and wrestling with 
his grief, the negro boy fell asleep. In his troubled dreams a sense 
of misery haunted him for a long while, and from time to time a 
broken sob escaped him as he lay. Then deep slumber banished 
even this lingering phantom of the mind, and with all his senses 
locked fast from the outer world, sunk in complete unconscious- 
ness, he slept a blissful sleep. 


How a Young Lady Took a Horseback Ride. 323 


CHAPTER XXXIIL 

WHICH TELLS HOW A YOUNG LADY TOOK A HORSEBACK RIDE AND 
MADE A MURDEROUS ASSAULT ON A POOR OLD BEGGAR. 

The sun was shining high in the heavens when the lad awoke 
next morning. As he opened his eyes and looked about him the 
first sharp recollection was of the great loss he had sustained ; the 
second was of the plan he had heard unfolded in the cavern to mur- 
der Randolph Pearson on that very night. The man against whom 
the conspiracy had been formed was in St. Louis, and was to be 
assassinated that night on his ride homeward from the depot at the 
foot of the ridge. Miss Sue Bascombe must be notified, and that 
without a moment’s delay, for there was barely time now to send 
a messenger to the depot in time to warn Pearson of his danger. 

The boy sprang to his feet, and, without stopping anywhere 
upon the road to get a morsel to stay his hunger, made all possible 
speed toward the farmhouse where he expected to find the young 
lady who was to be intrusted with his startling communication. 
When he reached the place it was past noon, and the child, worn 
with grief and excitement, and faint from hunger and long travel, 
was almost exhausted. Sue Bascombe would not permit him to 
talk until he had taken some nourishment, and then she examined 
and cross-examined him on his remarkable experience the night 
before in the cavern. He told a plain unvarnished tale that carried 
conviction with it, and the girl lost not a moment in considering 
what should be done in the emergency that confronted her. She 
ordered her horse. Dandy Jim, to be saddled at once and brought 
round to the gate. While this order was being obeyed she donned 
her riding-skirt and hat and wrote a short note to Teddy McIntosh, 
asking him to join her without delay at Baker’s Station, near the 
foot of the ridge. These preliminaries hurriedly dispensed with 
she took her seat in the saddle and turned her horse’s head toward 
Baker’s depot. The afternoon was now considerably advanced, 
and the place she wished to reach was fifteen miles away. 


324 


The K. K. K. 


The girl rode rapidly, knowing that night would certainly 
overtake her before she reached her destination and wishing to 
cover as much of the distance by daylight as possible. There was 
time enough to catch the train, for it was not due at the depot 
until after seven o’clock, nearly four hours from the time at 
which she left home. One circumstance, however, delayed her and 
caused her considerable apprehension before she completed her 
journey. She knew the main route well, for she had traveled it 
often, but now she was compelled to leave this road and travel a 
more circuitous one, to avoid passing the spot where she knew the 
negro was lying in wait to murder Pearson. At first her determi- 
nation was to ride boldly by this place, trusting that the assassin, 
having no motive for disturbing her, would suffer her to pass un- 
molested. She carried in her bosom the trusty little Smith & Wes- 
son pistol which Lawyer Slowboy had returned to her after his ex- 
citing experience with the hobgoblins, and thus felt able to defend 
herself even in case she was halted on the way by any one with evil 
intent. As she galloped, however, in the fast declining day along 
the first half of her route she reflected that the negro would almost 
certa,inly recognize her as she passed his place of hiding and would 
divine her motive in traveling alone to the depot at that particular 
time. He might undertake to stop her bodily, or, still more prob- 
able, he might shoot her from his place of concealment, and thus 
frustrate her purpose to notify Pearson. She, therefore, turned 
aside before she reached this spot and took a less- frequented route, 
which she had never traveled before. Night was now approaching, 
the evening was cloudy, and she was compelled to stop at several 
farmhouses by the roadside to inquire the way. Her purpose had 
been simply to make a circuit around the spot where the negro lay 
concealed and get back into the main highway again after going 
a short distance, but this, in consequence of intervening woods and 
fences, she could not do. She pursued her way through narrow 
lanes, stopping often to make inquiries, and losing, as she knew, 
valuable time in doing so. She thought seriously at this stage of 
her journey of taking some of the white people along the road into 
her confidence and having the negro arrested before he could carry 
out his purpose, but this plan she soon dismissed as not feasible. 
She was among strangers, and while she wasted time in the effort 
to have the assassin apprehended Pearson might leave the 
depot and reach the spot chosen for his murder. The 
best plan was to intercept and warn him, and then to 


How a Young Lady Took a Horseback Ride 325 

take steps for the arrest not only of the negro who 
was lying in wait, but of the villainous old white man who 
was the guiltier of the two conspirators. So ‘concluding she 
urged her horse onward, made her inquiries as few as possible 
and always to the point, and anxiously bent her efforts toward 
reaching Baker Station before the arrival of the down train. For- 
tunately as she blundered along in an unknown section of country 
she encountered an old negro in the road, and for the remuneration 
of twenty-five cents induced him to pilot her back into the main 
highway which she had left. This he did by the expeditious 
method of taking down fences, crossing new plowed fields, and 
conducting her through thick woods where she had to lie almost 
flat to keep from being swept from the saddle. It was best in the 
end, however, for when she had thus forged ahead slowly for the 
better part of an hour she was once more in the road she had left, 
and could hasten on to the end of her journey. 

“ I ain’t gwy ax you what business you got out at dis time o’ 
night by yourself,” said the old man as he took the quarter, “ but 
I’m gwy say de rule in dese parts is for de gentleman to do de 
ridin’ and de lady to set up in de parlor and wait for him. Ef 
you’re runnin’ away to git married — which I knows you is — you 
must have a mighty pokey young man for a beau, or he’d a gone 
atter you and tuck you to de squire’s house. Dat’s de way for 
a young gentleman to act, mistiss, and you mustn’t git mad at my 
tellin’ you so.” 

Sue Bascombe was a queer girl. She neither laughed at nor 
resented the old negro’s well-meant advice. “ Uncle,” she re- 
plied quietly, as she fixed her skirts for a rapid gallop, “ I say to 
you in confidence that I think you’re exactly right about this 
matter. The man I’m hunting is a little pokey, but I’m going after 
him all the same. la these times a girl must do the best she can, 
you know.” Whereupon she gave Dandy Jim a keen cut with the 
whip and left her guide without another word. 

“ Dat’s a cur’ous gal as ever I seed,” remarked the old negro to 
himself as the damsel ran away from him at almost break-neck 
speed. 

As she hurried onward she wondered if Teddy McIntosh was not 
ahead of her. If he got her message promptly he would lose no 
time in setting forward upon her track, and perhaps by this time 
had already reached the depot. If so he would wonder why she 
was not there. Thinking of Teddy reminded her that he had doubt- 


The K. K. K. 


326 

less passed the place where the negro lay concealed, or would have 
to pass it if he was still in the rear. Would any effort be made to 
assassinate him? She thought not, for Pearson seemed to be the 
special object of hatred on the part of the old white man who had 
prompted the negro to murder. If the negro should kill somebody 
else and not Pearson, he would defeat the purpose his principal 
had in view. At any rate, she had not. the ght to warn McIntosh 
against passing the spot ; could not well have done so in a note 
without going into explanations that could not be intrusted to 
paper. Teddy, she persuaded herself, would get through all right. 
She would either find him at the station house or he would get 
there soon after she reached the place. She had no watch, but she 
knew it was now about train time. She was near enough to the 
station, however, to have heard the whistle if the locomotive had 
stopped there, and the sound had not yet reached her ear. She had 
not heard the engine whistle for the top of the ridge, and she knew 
some minutes must elapse after it started on the down grade before 
it reached Baker Station below. She hurried on, therefore, confi- 
dent that she was not too late, but feeling the importance of wast- 
ing not a moment’s time, and presently as she reached the summit 
of a hill was cheered by the twinkle of a light at the station. 

She set forth down the declivity at a brisk canter. The timber 
had been cleared away near the summit, and she could see fairly 
well down the road ahead of her. When Dandy Jim had galloped 
a short way he suddenly shied, and the girl saw a man standing 
on the side of the road. He was undersized and held a long cane 
or walking stick in his hand. This figure now advanced slowly 
into the center of the highway, and, grasping his long stick in his 
left hand, held the right out in a supplicating manner. 

“ ’Elp te poor plind man,” said the beggar in a whining tone. 
“ ’Elp te plind man, for te luff uff Cot.” 

“ I have nothing for you,” replied the girl. “ Stand aside and 
let me pass.” 

The beggar kept his place in the center of the highway and still 
held out his hand. “ ’Elp te plind man,” he cried piteously. “ ’Elp 
te plind man, laty.” 

“ How do you know it’s a lady before you ? ” asked Sue Bas- 
combe, for she greatly distrusted the whining beggar. 

“ Ah, mine Cot, te sweet voice; te sweet voice.” 

Sue Bascombe tightened the bridle rein in her hand and drew 
her horse back a few steps. She eyed the supplicating figure 


How a Young Lady Took a Horseback Ride. 327 

as best she could in the misty light. His head was bent low ; he 
seemed to grope his way as he proceeded, but he advanced now 
slowly toward her with his right hand extended. 

“ ’Elp, for te luff uff Cot. ’Elp, for te luff uff Cot,” cried the 
blind man piteously, as he tottered toward her. 

She gave the rein a sudden jerk, and the horse backed a few 
steps UD the hill. The blind man still advanced, groping his way. 

“ ’Elp, for te luff uff Cot. ’Elp, for te luff uff Cot,” he cried 
more beseechingly. 

“ Stand back,” said the girl firmly. “ Stand back, I tell you.” 

’Elp te plind man, laty. ’Elp te plind man, laty.” 

Stand back, I tell you.” 

She reined her horse back a second time, and he followed her 
more rapidly. His right hand was still extended. Was it to 
solicit alms or was it to seize her bridle rein ? 

“ ’Elp te plind man.” 

“ Stand back.” 

“ ’Elp te plind ” 

The girl drew a pisol from her bosom, pointed it toward him 
and without a moment’s hesitation pulled the trigger. There was a 
flash, a loud report, and the beggar dropped his stick and fell to 
the earth. He was not killed, however, for he immediately tried to 
rise again, and made, as Sue Bascombe thought, a suspicious move- 
ment with his right hand toward his hip pocket. 

“ Let that pistol alone,” said the girl calmly. “ If you try to 
draw it here I’ll finish you.” 

“ Ah, mine Cot, mine Cot,” cried the beggar extending himself 
upon the ground. “ Vot a country, vot a fcoples.” 

Fortunately at this stage of the game Sue Bascombe heard the 
sound of a horse’s feet on the road behind her. She held her 
weapon on the prostrate man and waited for the rider to 
approach. She hoped it would prove to be Teddy McIntosh has- 
tening to join her at the station, and when the horseman drew 
near she found it was Teddy. 

“ What’s up ? ” inquired that impetuous youth, who had heard 
the pistol shot, and now found the young lady halted upon the 
highway. 

“ I’m afraid I’ve done something desperate, Teddy,” replied 
Miss Bascombe. 

‘‘ What’s that ? ” 

“ I believe I’ve killed a man.” 


The K. K. K. 


328 

“ Who is he ? ” 

“ I don’t know. He pretends to be a beggar and maybe he 
is.” 

“ What did he do ? ” 

He kept coming toward me. I ordered him to halt, and he 
didn’t.” 

The blind man lay in the road and groaned dismally. 

” He ain’t dead,” said Teddy McIntosh. ” You say you don’t 
know him ? ” 

“ I do not,” replied the girl. ‘‘ Never met him before.” 

“ He didn’t know you either,” said Teddy, ‘‘ or he would have 
stopped when you told him.” After which significant remark he 
dismounted, gave his bridle rein to the young lady and went to 
examine the prostrate man. 

The beggar lay in the road, drawing his breath painfully, and 
occasionally heaving a deep groan. 

” Who are you ? ” inquired McIntosh, stooping down and peer- 
ing into his face. 

” A plind man,” said the other in piteous tones. Plind and 
lame; plind and lame, mine frient, Te laty haff shot a plind man. 
Mine Cot, a poor plind man.” 

“ Look for his pistol, Teddy,” interjected Miss Bascombe. “ I 
believe he has one.” 

Teddy McIntosh examined, and sure enough found a pistol in 
the hip pocket of the beggar. ” What are you doing with this ? ” 
he inquired rather sternly of the wounded man. 

“ Ah, mine Cot, effry dog parks at te lame peggar ; te plind 
lame peggar.” 

“ Take it away from him, Teddy,”’ commanded the young 
lady, and Teddy put the weapon in his own pocket. 

The wounded m.an breathed now with much more difficulty, 
and apparently was sinking fast. “ Hold me up, mine frient,” 
he said to McIntosh beseechingly. ” For Cot’s sake, raise me up 
a leetle vile.” 

McIntosh complied with the request, lifting the wounded man’s 
head and shoulders from the ground. 

I veel a leetle petter,” said the blind man faintly. ” Vot ish 
dis ? Voo ish dis apout me ? Is tis mine prudder Shacob ? ” 

” I am a stranger,” replied Teddy Mclntotsh, ” but I will take 
care of you the best I can. I am sorry the accident occurred.” 

” ’Tis pity, ’tis pity,” said the blind man. ” But, mine frient, 


How a Young Lady Took a Horseback Ride. 329 

VQt for I zay ’tis pity. -For te rich and broud to pass avay ’tis 
pity ; but for te poor plind man to leafe tis vicked vorld ’tis no 
pity. I vill now leafe you, mine frients, and I leafe mine plessing 
behint me. Te plind, lame peggar vill peg no more in tis vicked 
vorld. Coot py, efifrypody.” 

“ I believe the old man’s going sure enough,” said McIntosh. 
“ I can hardly hold him up.” 

“ Lay him down as easily as you can,” replied Sue Bascombe, 
who was evidently deeply moved by the reflection that she had 
taken the old man’s life. 

“ Hold me a leetle vile,” said the old beggar gently — “ a leetle 
vile, mine frients; shust a leetle vile. It ish no matter. Te 
coot laty made a mishtake ; tat vas all. Zay to te vorld dat I do 
forgiff de coot laty for de mishtake vot she half made. Ah, 
mine Cot, shust now I vos unkery and pegged for pread. Zoon 
I vill pe unkery no more. To shoot a plind, lame peggar; ’tis 
small matter, mine frient, and I pray you vill tink notting uff it.” 

“ Hold him up, Teddy, as long as you can,” said Miss Bas- 
combe. “ I’m sorry I shot him.” 

“ Hold me a leetle vile,” said the old man faintly. “ Ten lay 
me town for coot and all. Mine frients, I half a vord for you. 
Ven you meet te poor plind man upon de road, unkery and cold, 
do not shute him, mine frients, but giff him pread. Dat ish 
pizness. Tell mine prudder Shacob I vos shot for nutting, and 
I leafe mine plessing upon all de vorld pehint me. Ven I am gone 
avay put von leetle gravestone at my ’ead, and write on dis dat 
de coot laty zhot te poor plind peggar for nutting, and de poor 
plind peggar did forgiff her for his murter. Ah, mine thrue 
frients, hold me up no furter. Shust lay me town and let me 
leafe dis vicked vorld. Coot py, mine prudder Shacob. Coot 
py, effrypody.” 

“ Lay him down, Teddy,” said Miss Bascombe gently, “ and 
run for the doctor.” 

“ I believe the old fellow is gone,” exclaimed Teddy McIntosh. 
The blind beggar had stretched himself at full length upon the 
earth, and after a deep groan remained perfectly quiet. 

“ Run for the doctor, Teddy,” repeated the young lady. 

“ Must I leave you here ? ” 

“ Why certainly. Yoit found me here.” 

Teddy McIntosh took the bridle rein of his horse from the 
girl’s hand and mounted the animal in haste. 


330 The K. K. K. 

“ This is a bad business,” he said to Sue as he was about to set 
off. 

“ I am afraid so, but it can’t be helped now,” replied the girl. 

You go to the depot yonder, Teddy, and leave word for Ran 
Pearson to come on here as soon as he gets off the train. Then 
you fetch a doctor, I'eddy, right away. I’ll stay here till you get 
back.” 

“ A doctor can’t help the old man, but I’m off,” replied Teddy 
McIntosh, and he immediately made good his assertion by 
setting forward at a rapid gait down the hill toward the depot. 

The blind beggar lay in the road perfectly still. The dim out- 
lines of his figure were visible to the girl, who sat on horseback a 
few yards away. She was perfectly still, of course, for there was 
no one to talk to, and Sue Bascombe was not in a talkative mood. 
To stand guard over a corpse is a serious business ; and if the sen- 
tinel is solely responsible for the presence of the corpse it is a very 
serious business. The stars looked down frostily from above, and 
their pale shimmer gave to every object around a ghostly appear- 
ance. The clatter of the horse galloping away could be heard 
almost to the depot, and the noise, as long as she could distinguish 
it, made the girl feel a little less lonely. Now she heard the 
whistle of the engine and the rumbh of the train at Ridgetop, 
and knew in a few minutes more it would come to a halt at Baker’s 
three miles below. Dandy Jim fidgeted about a little in the road, 
but the girl sat immovable in the saddle. She slipped the pistol 
back into her bosom and tied a handkerchief about her throat, for 
it was getting chilly. The blind beggar lay motionless in the road, 
and she concluded, with Teddy McIntosh, that the doctor would 
avail nothing when he came. A prowling dog came trotting down 
the road and began to sniff at the corpse, but at the sharp com- 
mand of the girl he ran away. With almost a steady roar the 
train rolled down around the dangerous curves of the ridge, and 
she heard first the whistle and then the bell proclaiming die stop 
at Baker Station. 

Sue Bascombe heard these sounds, and calculated that in fifteen 
minutes, or less time, Teddy McIntosh, and probably Pearson, 
would arrive and relieve her from duty. She sat motionless on 
the back of her horse and anxiously awaited their approach. 
She was growing now a little nervous, for the dead man was un- 
pleasant company. She did not look at him as he lay in the road. 
She looked persistently over him and to objects far beyond, but 
she knew he was there just the same. 


How a Young Lady Took a Horseback Ride. 331 

Suddenly an incident occurred so surprising in its nature that 
it gave the young lady quite a shock, though as a rule she wasn't 
an easy girl to shock. As she looked above the tree tops and 
strained her ears to catch the sound of .approaching horsemen, 
the dead man suddenly jumped up from the middle of the road 
and ran away. He ran swiftly, and in zig-zag fashion, so that 
in the misty light it was difficult to get a crack at him ; but Miss 
Bascombe did pull her pistol promptly, and drew trigger with 
little expectation — let us hope — of striking the fugitive. She 
fired once, she fired twice; she took pretty good aim at the 
shadowy figure darting down hill like a rabbit and fired a third 
time. Then she lifted her voice — for Sue Bascombe was a queer 
girl — and gave a shrill yell all by herself up there on the hill. The 
blind beggar from a position he now deemed secure replied loudly 
in broken English, and in terms the reverse of complimentary. At 
this Miss Sue Bascombe fell into a fit of boisterous laughter, all 
by herself up there on the hill. 

Pretty soon under whip and spur back rode Teddy McIntosh, 
with Mr. Ran Pearson close behind him. 

“ Name o' common sense,” cried Teddy in great astonishment. 
“ What — what — what’s up ? ” for he had heard, mind you, 
the pistol shots, the yell, and then the laughter. 

“ Oh, nothing,” replied Miss Bascombe. “ The dead man has 
run away, Teddy, that’s all.” 

“ Well, I will be ” began Teddy. 

“ Ahem,” interjected Miss Bascombe. 

“ Confound the luck,” cried Teddy, having not yet overcome 
his astonishment. “ The old scoundrel took to his heels, you 
say ? ” 

“ That’s what he did,” replied the young lady. “ And, Teddy, 
considering the fact that he was blind, lame, and a dead man, 
he ran remarkably well.” 

McIntosh at this remained silent, having fallen into a sort of 
brown study. 

“ And, Teddy,” pursued the young lady, “ I’m very glad you 
took his pistol away from him. Otherwise ” 

“ Otherwise what ? ” inquired the young gentleman. 

“ Otherwise,” said Miss Bascombe, ” I think you would have 
found a dead girl up here on the hill and the old scoundrel 
missing, as he is now.” 

Then the three sat on their horses in the highway and held a 


332 


The. K. K. K. 


council of war. The conclusion was unanimously reached that 
the blind beggar was the shifty individual known to those present 
as the father of Cross-eyed Jack; and known to Patsy Kinchen’s 
household as “ de little ole white man.” Sue Bascombe declared 
she had suspected as much when she shot him, but his subsequent 
behavior had led her for the moment astray. His motive for 
being out on the highway was perhaps to notify his confederate, 
by some agreed signal, that Pearson was on the road to the spot 
selected for his assassination. When Sue Bascombe came riding 
rapidly in the night toward Baker Station he divined her pur- 
pose and determined to frustrate her effort to warn Pearson. 

“ He was frightened away from Crawfish Cave,” said Sue Bas- 
combe, “ by a dreadful fight he had there last night in the dark 
with Pete Kinchen. At least I reckon the place was too lonesome 
for him after his experience.” Then she narrated hurriedly what 
Pete had told her, thus explaining the fact of her oiwn presence 
now on the road to Baker Station. 

“ And I think I can tell you,” said Teddy Mcintosh, “ why the 
old man was so anxious to put Pearson out of the way right now. 
They are going to have a special term of the court down at 
Coopertown, to try Cross-eyed Jack over again. Nothing would 
do Palaver but that another hearing should be had right away, 
and the judge has so ordered. The prisoner has already been 
taken from Nashville and lodged in the Coopertown jail; and the 
subpoenas are out for the witnesses in the case. Now, it’s as plain 
as the nose on a man’s face that they were bent on murdering 
Ran Pearson at once to keep him from working up the case for 
the prosecution, as he did before.” 

Then the three laid their heads together and fell upon a plan by 
which they hoped to secure the person of the negro, Alabama Sam, 
before he could be warned that there was danger for him ahead. 
This plan, however, failed, for when an hour later a posse reached 
the spot where he had lain hid, they found abundant evidence of 
his having been there, but him they discovered not. Miss Sue 
Bascombe lodged that night at a farmhouse near by ; and the next 
morning she, Mr. Randolph Pearson, and Mr. Teddy McIntosh 
rode like good friends, as they were, back to their own neighbor- 
hood. 


A Second Trial of the Ankerstrom Case. 333 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A SECOND TRIAL OF THE ANKERSTROM CASE IN THE INFERIOR COURT 

RESULTS IN A HUNG JURY — LAWYER PALAVER TAKES A DRINK 

WITH AN AGREEABLE YOUNG GENTLEMAN. 

On the very next day an expedition was formed, with Teddy 
McIntosh at the head, for the more thorough exploration of 
Crawfish Cave. Everybody knew where the cave was. Everybody 
knew there was excehent picnic ground at the wide mouth, and a 
subterraneous passage extending a good way back, along which 
young people of frolicksome turn frequently trod with lighted 
candles. Everybody knew this much, but everybody did not know 
that good fighting ground and lodging for travelers and 
stabling for horses could all be obtained by ascending the swift 
current of the stream that filled the dark channel through which 
it ran to a point above where another smooth, dry passage opened 
up, affording abundant room for all these purposes. When 
Pete’s tale got abroad — and it was all over the neighborhood by 
sunrise next morning — a company of adventurous youths was 
speedily formed to put his marvelous story to the test. Teddy 
IMcIntosh elected himself captain of this scouting party, and he 
soon had at his heels a score or more of bold followers who were 
resolved td see for themselves how matters stood along the head- 
waters of Crawfish Creek. When this party reached the mouth 
of the cave they founa a mixed and motley crowd assembled 
there, all eagerly discussing the Kinchen narrative, and all ready 
to venture forward, but for this or that impediment which at the 
moment was insuperable. 

The McIntosh expedition, being composed in the main of hardy 
youths, made its way through this promiscuous assemblage and 
disrobed at the point where the creek came rushing down through 
its own narrow channel. Each man tied his raiment up in a tight 
bundle, which was fastened securely about his neck, and held in 
his hand a pistol or repeating rifle, which was to be carried above 


334 


The K. K. K. 


his head when the advance began. Pete Kinchen had been among 
those who stood at the mouth of the cave when the scouting party 
came up. Pie followed this party back into the interior, and while 
the members were disrobing made a suggestion which most of 
them thought valuable. 

“ If you gen’lemun,” said Pete, “ wade up dis creek wid lan- 
terns, and makin’ a racket, one man kin shoot down fum de upper 
eend and kill ev’y last one of ye.” 

This proposition being assented to by all present, the lad ven- 
tured another suggestion, which was promptly accepted as a sen- 
sible one by Captain McIntosh and his brave men. 

“ I kin wade up dar all by myself in de dark, makin’ no more 
noise dan de water will make splashin’ gin de rocks. Ef I don’t 
come back pooty soon you may know I’m waitin’ for you on de 
dry ground whar me and de ole man fit. Ef I does come back I 
kin tell you what ’twas dat made me come back.” 

This manly proposition not only elevated Pete in the estimation 
of his fellow adventurers, but convinced the most skeptical that 
the lad had not fabricated when he gave an account of his previous 
journey along the same route. Alone and in the dark, therefore, 
Pete Kinchen set out upon his second ascent of the stream, taking 
this time his raiment with him, to be donned when he should once 
more set foot upon dry ground. After waiting a half hour 
without hearing from him Captain McIntosh concluded he had 
either been killed outright or had secured a footing in the enemy’s 
country without being assailed, and as the latter supposition was 
the most probable he set forward with his band up the creek. 

They proceeded, without serious adventure, single file and in 
dead silence, till the lantern of the foremost of the party disclosed 
the lad standing alone on dry ground just ahead of them. He 
had clothed himself and had advanced cautiously as far as the 
guest chamber without discovering any sign of life in the cavern. 
The exploring party, when this intelligence was imparted, went 
forward with less apprehension of being resisted, but still with 
caution, till they became convinced that the recent occupants had 
vacated their underground abode. They entered the guest 
chamber and found the ashes of the fire around which Alabama 
Sam and de little ole white man had discussed the murder of 
Pearson while Pete was eavesdropping in the dark passage 
without. By close inspection they even discovered human foot- 
prints in the cold embers, left there doubtless by the old gentle- 


A Second Trial of the Ankerstrom Case. 335 

man in his effort to extinguish the last spark before he vacated the 
premises, though, as one of the party remarked, there wasn’t much 
danger of setting his house on fire. The floor of this guest 
chamber has since been damaged by a large fragment of rock 
that fell from the ceiling above and broke into two or three pieces, 
but at the time Teddy McIntosh and his band visited the place it 
was smooth enough for sure-footed revelers to have danced a 
cotillion upon. 

Continuing their search the explorers found, stuck here and 
there in crannies, a good many empty bottles, a dirty deck of cards, 
and a well-thumbed copy of “ The Life and Adventures of Jack 
Sheppard,” which Mr. Hardrider had generously left for the 
edification of any future occupant of the cavern, whot, like himself, 
might be of literary turn. They discovered also, a good way back 
in the cavern, a locked tin box, containing a ham, a jar of pickles, 
a few tins of canned goods, several loaves of bread, and a quart 
bottle of whisky, full and tightly corked These supplies had 
undoubtedly been secreted for the accommodation of the robbers, 
or such of their friends as might find it expedient at any future 
time to seek shelter in the cavern. About two hundred feet beyond 
the guest chamber was the place where the horses had been 
stabled, though all signs of its having been put to such use had 
been removed as carefully as possible. One of the party measured 
the width of the cavern at this point by stepping across it at the 
widest place. He found the distance to be a little more than thir- 
teen paces, or, by estimation, about thirty-one feet. The roof at 
this part of the passage was considerably higher than a man’s 
head. 

It is to be hoped the sympathetic reader has not forgotten the 
little fox terrier that so valiantly chased the robber to his den on 
the occasion of Pete’s first visit and came to grief thereby. If 
the reader has overlooked the fact that the brave little creature 
was still somewhere in the depths of the cavern, he may be sure 
Pete Kinchen’s memory was not so treacherous. The main pur- 
pose of the lad in attaching himself to Captain McIntosh’s band of 
explorers was to make diligent search for his dog and bring him 
forth, dead or alive. So completely did the thought of his com- 
rade, Jineral Beauregard, fill the mind of the negro lad, that the 
entire force advancing into the bowels of the earth took on the 
character of a relief expedition, and for his own part he did 
nothing from the time the others joined him in the dry passage but 


The K. K. K. 


336 

hunt for his dog with’ lantern and friendly whistle. For a long 
while his quest was unrewarded, but finally those who were occu- 
pied at some distance away heard his glad shout announcing to the 
subterranean world that the lost had been found. Presently the 
glimmer of his lantern was seen, as he made his way rapidly 
toward them, bearing his faithful four-footed companion in his 
arms. Not only had he recovered his dog, but he had found him 
alive, and his great white eyes and glistening teeth proclaimed 
his unspeakable joy thereat. Jineral Beauregard, whose sands of 
life had nearly run out, licked the boy gratefully on the cheek and 
feebly wagged his stump of a tail, thereby indicating to all intelli- 
gent observers that the spirit indeed was willing, but the flesh was 
weak. There was a deep gash across the back of his neck, where 
the cruel bullet had plowed its way, and he was so faint from 
hunger and pain that he could not stand at all upon -his legs. 
They bore him safely to the outer world, and I may say now, to 
relieve the reader’s anxiety, that he in due time recovered his 
health, and from the moment he began again to stir abroad was the 
observed of all observers wherever he went. 

The time was now at hand when the witnesses in the famous 
Ankerstrom case must again be gathered together and persuaded 
or cajoled into going once more to court to testify. It was with 
absolutely no hope of obtaining a conviction that Pearson devoted 
himself to this task, but he wished the community to be spared of 
what he thought to be the disgrace of a public acquittal. It had 
been part of the plan of the secret order which had condemned 
the prisoner to intercept the train that bore him from Nashville, 
and to take him from the custody of the few guards that they 
supposed would accompany him. This plan, however, had been 
frustrated by the unexpected withdrawal of the murderer, and 
his transportation to the jail of the county where his former trial 
had occurred. Here his case must again be heard by a jury, and 
for the convenience of his attorneys he was sent down a few days 
in advance of the time set for his second public trial. 

Pearson, as said, entertained no hope of convicting the murderer 
of Mrs. Bascombe after the most material evidence against him had 
been eliminated from the case by the decision of the Supreme 
Court of the State. The attorney-general, but for the earnest 
protest of those most interested on the side of the prosecution, 
would have entered a nolle prosequi and had the prisoner dis- 
charged. As it was he entered into the investigation with the 


A Second Trial of the Ankerstrom Case. 337 

$ 

idea that an outrageous crime had been committed which ought 
to be punished, and which he would make a desperate endeavor 
to have punished whether the evidence justified a conviction or 
not. A cur dog will fight desperately if his friends pat him on 
the back in advance of the engagement, and the State’s officer, who 
was no cur dog by any means, was aroused to greater zeal in the 
fight he was now to wage by the fact that a good many excellent 
people were interested in his success and apparently expected 
great things of him. ’Twere long to tell of the legal tilts, the sharp 
thrusts, the keen retorts, the learned arguments, the appeals to 
passion and sympathy, the bursts of eloquence, the ingenious 
twisting of testimony, and the other concomitants of an important 
criminal trial that took up the time of the court for an- 
other full week. Suffice it to say that at the end of the struggle 
the attorney general was so far successful that the jury 
failed to agree, and so was discharged without rendering any 
verdict at all. Ten good and lawful men on their oaths, and with 
such testimony as they had before them, were of opinion that a 
verdict of not guilty should be rendered and the prisoner re- 
leased from the custody of the law. Two obstinate fellows held 
out for conviction and the hanging of the prisoner, upon the 
ground that he had certainly killed old Granny Bascombe, and the 
fact that his guilt was not clearly proven in court ought not to 
save his bacon. Our old friend Palaver was furious at the result, 
the attorney-general was pleased, the prisoner was remanded to 
jail, and the cause continued to the next term of the court. 

“ My man will be free by the time frost comes next fall,” re- 
marked Palaver boastfully to a crolwd at the foot of the steps 
when court had adjourned. “ There is no evidence to convict 
him, and there cannot be a second failure of justice. I shall ask 
to have him admitted to bail as soon as the judge has leisure to 
consider the matter.” 

The fact is, Palaver, smarting under defeat, was about to apply 
for bail as soon as the jury was discharged, but he reflected that 
he might avail himself of the opportunity the mistrial afforded him 
to wrest a little more money out of his client. The case had been 
contested more severely than he expected when he fixed his fee, 
and all these delays and applications for bail ought to be compen- 
sated for by fresh drafts on the pocket of the venerable Olof 
Ankerstrom, who — Palaver had discovered — though occasionally 
;-educed low, had some mysterious way of replenishing his ex- 

22 


The K. K. K. 


338 

chequer. The lawyer therefore waited to confer with the old 
gentleman, whom he had not seen of late, before making to the 
honorable court a request for bail, which he had every reason to 
believe would be granted when applied for. 

On the evening following the day of the trial, when all the wit- 
nesses had gone their separate ways, and other matters had been 
taken up. Palaver prior to wending his way homeward had stepped 
into a saloon near his office to take an invigorating nip, and thus 
prepare his mind for the restful influence of home. He was 
standing at the bar, had given his order, and was stirring his 
glass thoughtfully when he was accosted in a friendly way by a 
young gentleman who had entered the saloon manifestly upon the 
same business. 

‘‘ Good-evening, Colonel,” said the young gentleman, extend- 
ing his hand cordially as he spoke. 

The lawyer raised his head and eyed the new-comer inquisi- 
tively to see if he could remember ever having met him before. 

“ My name is Galloway,” said the young gentleman ; ” nephew 
of your old friend Galloway of Nashville. You don’t know me. 
Colonel, but I know you. I am studying law, and hope some 
day to be able to make such an argument as I heard you make 
not long ago before the Supreme Court in the Ankerstrom case. 
That was a grand argument. Colonel, a grand argument. Every- 
body said so who heard it.” 

“ It won the case,” replied the lawyer complacently. “ A good 
speech, my young friend, is a speech that wins the lawsuit.” 

” So it is, so it is,” said the young gentleman, bowing low to 
his senior. “ There can be no better definition of a good speech 
than to say it is one that wins the lawsuit.” 

“ The Colonel makes a good many speeches of that kind,” in- 
terposed the friendly barkeeper. “ The fact is, he don’t make any 
other sort.” 

The Colonel, manifestly pleased at finding himself held in such 
high esteem, here pulled an assortment of silver coins from his 
pocket preparatory to settling his little bill. 

‘‘ Allow me,” said the gracious young gentleman, and he passed 
to the barkeeper a coin of sufficient denomination to pay for two 
drinks. The Colonel bowed with dignity and also with affability. 
It was a standing rule of his always to let the other fellow pay for 
the drinks if he would. 

“ A good speech, as you say. Colonel,” continued the pleasant 


A Second Trial of the Ankerstrom Case. 339 

young gentleman, wiping his mouth, “ is a speech that wins the 
case. Spread-eagle oratory, and that sort of thing, counts for 
little, I imagine, with an intelligent court.” 

“ Not worth a d — n,” replied the Colonel. 

“ It may now,” pursued the agreeable young gentleman, “ once 
in a while make some impression on a jury ” 

“ That’s where it comes in,” interrupted the Colonel, breaking 
in on the young gentleman’s remark. “You are seeking to qualify 
yourself for the practice of my profession, and I tell you right 
now that buncombe talk goes a long way with a jury.” 

“ Gentlemen,” chimed in the barkeeper, whose prophetic soul 
recognized in this confab a second order for drinks, “ walk into 
the back room. You’ll find seats there.” 

“ Don’t care if I do,” replied the young gentleman, taking his 
way into a snug apartment in the rear. 

“ Only for a few minutes,” remarked the Colonel, following the 
young gentleman’s lead. 

Here the two gentlemen sat discoursing for the space of ten 
minutes, or some such matter, when the pleasant youth pro- 
pounded the following query : 

“ What remark was that. Colonel, which the governor of North 
Carolina made to the governor of South Carolina ? ” 

“If his utterance has been correctly reported,” replied the Colo- 
nel gravely, “ he said it was a long time between drinks.” 

“ Ha-ha-ha,” laughed the two gentlemen in unison, and in re- 
sponse to a rap upon the table the barkeeper appeared with two 
more glasses of liquor. 

They sat chatting for another little while, and as they rose to 
go the young gentleman remarked in a confidential manner : 

“ By the way, I heard a thing the other day. Colonel, that per- 
haps you ought to know. A friend of mine, a drummer, and a 
pretty shrewd fellow, had just returned from the Marrowbone 
Hills, and he said the folks up there were mad as tucker os^er the 
decision of the Supreme Court in the Ankerstrom case. There was 
a good deal of excited talk, he said, about sending a mob down 
here to take Ankerstrom out of jail and hang him. There may 
be nothing at all in the threat — and I don’t suppose there is — but I 
thought I’d let you know how the folks up there were plotting 
mischief.” 

“ Thank you, Galloway,” replied the Colonel. “ We have heard 
all about that, but have' not been in the least disturbed by the 


340 


The K. K. K. 


rumor, because a dozen mobs couldn’t break open the jail here 
and take a prisoner out; To save trouble, however, we’re going to 
send Ankerstrom back to Nashville without delay. We don’t 
want any rash attempts made here that may compel the officers to 
shed blood.” 

‘‘ I see, I see,” replied the pleasant young gentleman. “ Well, 
that course certainly is commendable and merciful. I hope if the 
mob does come the jailer will be able to say to them truthfully that 
the man they seek is no longer in his custody.” 

“ He can certainly say that,” replied the Colonel, “ unless the 
mob comes to-night. To-morrow evening we mean to send An- 
kerstrom back to Nashville. This, of course, is confidential.” 

“ Of course,” said the young gentleman. “ Of c-o-u-r-s-e. I 
see. Colonel, you keep your eyes open all the time.” 

“ Nobody has ever caught me napping yet,” replied the Colonel. 

In our profession, Galloway, a man must keep his eyes open all 
the time.” And the new acquaintances here shook hands cor- 
dially and parted with mutual esteem. 

As the agreeable young gentleman walked down the street it 
might have been observed that he bore a marvelous resemblance 
to our farmer friend Teddy McIntosh; but we know it could not 
have been Teddy because the young man had just told Colonel 
Palaver that his name was Galloway, and that he was studying for 
the law. When he had reached and turned a corner and, pro- 
ceeding on his way, had reached and turned another corner, he 
came upon two other young men who seemingly had been waiting 
foir him. The three stood a while in close conference, and after 
they separated one of the number went ofif by himself, and 
mounting a horse set out at a pretty good gait in the direction 
of the Marrowbone Hills. It was nearly night, but he rode as 
if he meant to travel a considerable distance before his jaded steed 
was permitted to enter a stable for rest and food. Mr. Galloway 
and his remaining friend, having no pressing business on hand, 
went to a tavern and supped and lodged, and next morning were 
out upon the streets again. 


A Noted Individual Shuffles Off this Mortal Coil. 341 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

A NOTED INDIVIDUAL SHUFFLES OFF THIS MORTAL COIL, AND LEAVES 

THE WORLD NONE THE POORER. 

Late in the afternoon following his pleasant confab with lawyer 
Palaver, Mr. Galloway, having seen all the sights of the town, 
concluded to take his departure. He and his friend strolled in a 
leisurely way to the depot with the view of taking the northbound 
train, and a few minutes after their arrival an officer came from 
the jail, having in custody the prisoner, Ankerstrom, who was to 
be escorted back to Nashville for safe keeping. A second officer 
was along, perhaps merely as company for the first, perhaps 
to assist in case the prisoner should make an effort to give leg 
bail. 

Before the arrival of the northbound train Mr. Galloway went 
out and telegraphed to a friend living on the Nashville road that 
two good mules could be bought at Coopertown upon reasonable 
terms. Perhaps if Colonel Palaver had been present he might 
have inquired if the young law student was also engaged in the 
mule trade, but Colonel Palaver was not present, and conse- 
quently Mr. Galloway was not called upon to answer any ques- 
tions. 

At Guthrie, Kentucky, there was a wait of something more than 
an hour. At this point, as all well-informed persons know, the St. 
Louis & Southeastern road crosses the Louisville & Memphis 
Railroad, and passengers for Nashville from the latter road must 
change cars. Mr. Galloway and his friend walked up and down 
the long platform chatting pleasantly, and did not seem to mind 
the delay at all. The officers in charge of Ankerstrom grew 
somewhat impatient. The St. Louis train was nearly an hour 
late, and they did not relish the idea of being compelled to post- 
pone their stay at Guthrie. They spoke their minds as freely in 
the presence of the prisoner as if the latter had been stone deaf or 
totally unfamiliar with the English language. 


342 


The K. K. K. 


“ I don’t like this here place at all,” said the head officer to his 
assistant, “ and I never did like it.” 

“ Me nother,” replied the gentleman addressed. “ It’s a tick- 
lish place for them in our business, and that’s a fact.” 

“ It’s pretty rough,” continued the first, “ that an officer can’t 
take a criminal from one place in Tennessee to another place in 
Tennessee without having to go out of the State on his road. 
And it’s all the rougher that while you are out of the State with 
your man you’ve got to stop and wait a couple of hours. All 
sorts of things can happen in two hours.” 

” Our man might jump up and run ” replied the assistant, “ and 
we dassn’t shoot him, because over here in Kentucky we hain’t 
got him in legal custody.” 

“ I’ll put one ball in him if he tries that caper,” said the head 
officer nonchalantly, “ though I may get took up the next minute 
for shootin’ inside the town limits. But what Tm afraid of is a 
habeas corpus. Some Kentucky constable could read a little piece 
of paper to us right now, and we’d have to give up this scoundrel 
whether or no. I wonder the lawyers on this side of the line don’t 
work that racket often on Tennessee officers.” 

“ Did you ever know ’em do it ? ” inquired number two. 

“ I ’member one time — — began his superior, intending to 
favor his companion with a chapter from the book of his individual 
experience. 

“ Yonder she comes,” interrupted the party of the second part, 
as he observed a thin curl of smoke a mile or so away up the road. 

“ Now I feel easy,” remarked the principal officer. “ In ten 
minutes more we’ll be back in Tennessee again, and when I’m in 
Tennessee I ask no odds of anybody.” 

Night had set in some time before, and the train made a pretty 
sight as the cars rolled up to the platform. Johan Ankerstrom 
was in excellent spirits for so sullen a fellow as he habitually was. 
He had not cared to make a break from the officers and risk the 
chances of being shot. He had no need of habeas corpus pro- 
ceedings in Kentucky, for the outlook in Tennessee was encour- 
aging, and he cherished a reasonable hope of being freed by legal 
process in that State soon. 

When they got aboard the train for Nashville the two officers 
and their prisoner took the smoking-car, and Mr. Galloway and 
his friend likewise took the smoking-car. At the various stations 
along the route people got on and off as usual ; only it was noticed 


A Noted Individual Shuffles Off this Mortal Coil. 343 

that on this occasion a good many more people got on than off. 
By the time the engine whistled for the station called “ Ridgetop 
the smoking-car was nearly full of men, an unusual circumstance. 

At Ridgetop a party of young fellows got aboard, who were 
manifestly resolved to make a night of it, and had already ad- 
vanced a considerable way in this laudable endeavor. They made 
as if they would enter the ladies’ coach, but the conductor politely 
invited them into the smoking-car. 

The train now began gliding rapidly down the hill. It was con- 
siderably behind time, and turned the many short curves in the 
track with what seemed to be almost reckless rapidity. When 
something more than half way down an accident occurred which 
for the moment promised serious consequences. The train was 
nearing the dangerous-looking bridge — built in a semicircle — 
when a man suddenly stepped on the track in front and waved a 
lantern furiously. Others appeared by his side flourishing their 
hats, and crying aloud “ Stop ! stop ! stop ! ” The engineer, 
being thus confronted in an alarming manner, reversed his engine, 
bringing the train at once to a halt and flinging many of the pas- 
sengers from their seats. The drunken squad, supposing that a 
promiscuous melee had begun, fell a fighting among themselves. 
One flourished a stick and broke a lamp overhead. A second light 
had been extinguished by the general shock, and only a single 
lamp remained, which but feebly lit up the car. A great con- 
fusion of voices now arose; some calling out to jump from the 
train and others crying they were on the bridge, and to leap would 
be death. 

The officer in charge of the prisoner as soon as the shock came 
was seized from behind by two or more persons and his arms held 
fast. He called to his deputy by name, telling him to hold the 
prisoner but the deputy had also been seized in like fashion with 
himself. Ankerstrom had not been fettered — as the precaution 
had been deemed unnecessary for so short a journey — and now 
stood hesitating while the hubbub about him increased. “ Run,” 
whispered one to him as he stood uncertain. “ Run, you fool.” 
He leaped over the back of the seat and started for the nearest 
door. 

“ Catch the prisoner ! ” cried the officer, who could see him 
moving in the misty light. “ Catch the prisoner ! There he goes.” 

“ Catch the prisoner ! catch the prisoner ! ” cried a dozen voices 
at once ; but they helped him on his way. 


344 


The K. K. K. 


He twisted in and out among them. He dodged them, suppos- 
ing he was unknown in the confusion. At first he had seemed 
almost loth to go, but he redoubled his effort to escape when he 
heard the officer’s cry. Struggling down the aisle through the 
surging mass of men he reached the door. On his left was a 
small plot of level ground, where stood a number of persons. 
On his right was a steep declivity, then a patch of scraggy bushes, 
then a deep, rough hollow. He knew the place well, and when he 
reached the platform leaped boldly into the darkness on his right. 
He rolled over and over when he struck the earth, scarcely making 
an effort to stay himself. Now he rose, and dashing into the 
patch of scrubby undergrowth ran for his life. He cared not that 
the briars and sharp branches tore his clothing. He understood 
that to flee down hill would lead him into the deep, dark hollow 
where safety lay, and lowering his head and closing his eyes he 
sped with all his might. When he had made furious headway 
thus for a little space he ran into the arms of a man. Not 
of one man only, but of two, three, a dozen, who had him bound 
and gagged before he fully realized he was in their hands. 

Back at the train the engineer had become satisfied that there 
was no serious trouble ahead. A handful of excited men had be- 
come alarmed over a rumor that one of the rails on the bridge had 
slipped its place, and so had rashly signalled the train. The worst 
of the matter was that the prisoner had escaped. He had darted off 
during the confusion, and was now at large somewhere out in the 
bushes. Undoubtedly there was a preconcerted plan to take him 
from the officer and kill him, but the mob had bungled and let 
him go, and to catch him again would be no easy matter. Some 
were ready to declare that the handful of excited men who stopped 
the train were really part of the mob, but making an assertion is 
one thing and bringing proof to substantiate it is another. 

Meantime a considerable band of horsemen wended their way in 
silence from the scene of the confusion back toward the interior 
of the Marrowbone Hills. Before the stars had begun to pale an- 
other assemblage was gathered about the ashes of the old Bas- 
combe home. It was a solemn assemblage, as might have been 
noted, if there had been a curious looker on at the moment, and a 
quiet assemblage, for no word was spoken that could have been 
heard twenty yards away. Back in the thicket might have been 
heard the stamping feet of tethered horses, but none of these were 
visible in the little clearing that marked the spot where the old 


A Noted Individual Shuffles Off this Mortal Coil. 345 

house had stood. Robed in long black gowns, with black hoods 
concealing their features, human creatures now stood in this space, 
as silent, and almost as motionless, as the desolate chimneys that 
still guarded the precincts of the once cheerful home. These fig- 
ures — about two score in number — were formed in a circle around 
a large oak tree that grew in the front yard, a few steps away 
from the door through which the old widow had fled on the night 
of the murder. It was near the root of this tree — as was shown 
by her own statement, and by blood stains upon the earth — that the 
cruel blow from the ax was delivered. 

Now was led forward a horse, upon the back of which sat one 
pinioned, and with his feet bound together underneath the body 
of the animal. In the dim light those who had ever seen him be- 
fore could not fail to recognize the repulsive features of the mur- 
derer, Johan Ankerstrom, known as Cross-eyed Jack. He made 
no noise as he came into the center of the group, for he had been 
gagged as well as firmly bound. On each side as he came walked 
a figure robed in black and holding him by the arm to make sure 
that he kept his place on the back of the horse. When they came to 
the large oak tree they halted underneath a limb, from which a 
rope dangled. The loose end of this was quickly tied in a slip- 
knot about the captive’s neck. He made no resistance as this was 
done, but seemed to be sullenly submitting to his fate. 

“ Prisoner,” now came in solemn tones from one of the figures 
who stood a little apart from the others, “ your last hour has 
come. Is there anything you wish to say before you are made to 
atone for the death of the good old woman whom you murdered 
on this spot ? ” 

Then the handkerchief was unloosed from the mouth of the cap- 
tive in order that he might have opportunity to reply. 

Cross-eyed Jack glared about him as a tiger might have glared 
that found itself trapped and begirt with foes. Those who know 
they are doomed to die nearly always meet the inevitable with 
outward fortitude. With most base characters this seeming reso- 
lution results only from an utter inability on their part to realize 
the stupendous fact that they are about to forsake a stage of ex- 
istence which has before occupied all their thoughts and pass at 
once to an unknown and uncontemplated beyond, Johan An- 
kerstrom had never done an act in all his life that could properly 
establish for him the reputation of being a courageous man. He 
had been rather a skulking beast of prey, whose instinct prompted 


The K. K. K. 


346 

him always to flight till caught in a situation where flight was im- 
possible. Now as he sat powerless and hopeless under the gallows 
tree he was resolved to die as a savage would have died who saw 
no chance of escape or of wreaking vengeance on his foes. If 
he. could not save himself he could at least heap imprecations 
upon his enemies. When his lips were first unsealed he spluttered 
out meaningless sounds for a moment, for he was literally chok- 
ing with rage and blind malice toward those who held him in the 
hollow of their hands. When he found utterance he raised his 
voice to its highest pitch and screamed out oaths and insulting 
abuse of the coarsest nature upon his captors. It was horrible 
to hear the dead silence of the night broken by such wild and 
blasphemous words, especially when those who listened knew 
they fell from the lips of a dying man. 

To check the torrent of rough language the chieftain of the 
group raised his right hand and at once the handkerchief was re- 
placed in the murderer’s mouth and his harsh voice stilled, though 
for some moments longer hoarse guttural sounds proceeded from 
his throat. Then again the principal person of the group spake, 
addressing the silent creatures around him : 

‘‘ By sentence of the Ulema, and by the decree of our mystical 
order, this man has been adjudged worthy of death. Are ye all 
still convinced it was his hand that smote down at midnight the 
good old woman who died on this spot?” 

Every cowled figure in the circle bowed low in token of ac- 
quiescence. 

“ Is it still your deliberate judgment that for this grave crime 
his life should pay the forfeit? ” 

Again every black-robed figure bowed his head in token of as- 
sent. 

Then spake the leader for the last time, in tones deep, slow and 
solemnly impressive : 

“ Let him die the death.” 

Those on each hand now held the murderer firmly. The bonds 
that bound his feet together were unloosed and the horse was led 
from under him. He struggled for a long while in the presence 
of the somber figures that composed the circle, but none of these 
approached him, and no one spake a word. No angry demon- 
stration accompanied the last moments of the criminal on eartli. 
No pitying voice was lifted against his taking off. None gloated 
over his death agony, as he had done two years before when" Sandy 


A Noted Individual Shuffles Off this Mortal Coil. 347 

-Kinchen — near the self-same spot — died innocent of the crime for 
winch he suffered. Long time the body dangled from the tree, 
and when life was extinct the leader of the band announced to his 
followers that the sentence of the mystic order had been executed 
and they might disperse to their several homes. 

So died Johan Ankerstrom, murderer, outlaw, anarchist, atheist, 
human brute. We are told in the Book of books that of him to 
whom little is given on this earth little is expected. If so it may 
be that when this base creature came to be judged in the wiser 
world beyond, against his many sins of commission and omission 
were placed as an offset his scant opportunities in life, his slug- 
gish intellect, his evil associations from childhood, his brutish in- 
stincts, which though he had striven against them he perhaps 
lacked spiritual strength to resist. It may be that when he reached 
that wiser world beyond all these things were considered in judg- 
ing the brutal malefactor, the pros and cons fairly weighed in 
summing up his earthly career, and a final verdict rendered in his 
case which tempered stern justice with divine mercy. In human 
governments, however, those whose duty it is to administer justice 
cannot afford to inquire too nicely into the remote influences that 
combine to form the character of the criminal. Society here must 
protect the peaceable and well disposed among its members from 
the cruel and rapacious, the doves from the foxes. To this end 
penal statutes are framed, and whenever these statutes are not 
promptly and rigorously executed the purpose of the law is de- 
feated and society is wronged. Undue solicitude for the evildoer 
removes a wholesome restraint from his class and leaves the better 
element in a community at the mercy of the worst, so that tender- 
ness for the few is cruelty to the many. 

When dawn was nigh those who formed the silent circle sepa- 
rated and went their several ways, leaving the lifeless body of the 
murderer hanging from the tree. Before the order to disperse • 
was given the individual who seemed to be in command advanced 
and pinned to the malefactor’s chest a broad placard containing 
these words plainly written: 


548 


The K. K. K. 



: “ This man was not hung by an angry mob, nor exe- 

cuted by the sheriff of the county in pursuance of a legal 
: decree. 


!• “ HE DIED AT THE HANDS OF THE K. K. K. : 

!: • 

!: When monstrous crimes are no longer committed, or : 

I: justice is speedily administered through the courts, this : 

I: organization will cease to exist. : 

l: : 

: “TILL THEN LET EVILDOERS BEWARE.” : 

X X 

Underneath were certain mystical characters or hieroglyphics 
that may have signified a great deal, and may have signified 
nothing at all. 

All day the lifeless body hung, as the lifeless body of Sandy 
Kinchen had hung in the woods near by about two years before. 
Curious people came and viewed it and went their way, as they 
had done when Sandy Kinchen shuffled off this mortal coil be- 
neath the gallows tree. The coroner came not nigh and no jury of 
inquest assembled to deliberate and report as to the identity of the 
dead man swinging from the tree or the cause of his taking off. 
That night the body was lowered by unknown hands and carried 
off to a lonely place in the woods where a grave had been dug to 
receive it. There it was hidden from sight, the earth above it 
leveled, and leaves and dry branches scattered over the spot, so that 
the last resting place of the murderer could not be discovered at 
this day though one should diligently seek for it. 


The Prompter Rings His Little Bell. 


349 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

THE PROMPTER RINGS HIS LITTLE BELL, AND THE CURTAIN FALLS. 

Whatever may have been thought and said elsewhere about 
the hanging of the murderer, Ankerstrom, by the good people of 
the Marrowbone Hills it was universally lauded as a meritorious 
act. The only criticism heard upon it in that section was that the 
villain should have been hung long before he was hung, and that 
the individuals who finally administered justice in his case waited 
over long in the discharge of a plain duty. Still from the morning 
when the body of the malefactor was found swinging from a tree 
near the lonely chimneys of the old Bascombe place down to this 
good hour the mysterious Brotherhood of the K. K. K. has been 
regarded as a praiseworthy organization, whose mission it was to 
set things to rights in a community where from any cause the 
times were out of joint. There were, as said, not lacking those who 
censured the order for proceeding too deliberately, but the most 
thoughtful part of the community were of opinion that the con- 
stitution of the order was wisely framed so as to avoid on the one 
hand awkward mistakes and on the other vexatious delay, with 
probable failure of justice in the end. It was right, said these, to 
await the decision of the courts after having delivered Anker- 
strom to the jurisdiction of the courts, but having demonstrated 
the utter inability of judge and jury to administer speedy 
justice in grave cases it was not to be expected the 
klan in future would waste time in similar experiments. 
Hereafter when murder was done, or other flagrant out- 
rage committed, the ofifender would be run down, his 
case critically inquired into by the high court of the order, 
and justice meted out to him in a prompt and business-like 
way. There would be in the Marowbone Hills no more hasty 
action by an incensed mob, such as had brought poor Kinchen to an 
unmerited end. And there would be, on the other hand, no more 
dilly-dallying in the courts, such as had come nigh freeing the 


350 


The K. K. K. 


murderer, Cross-eyed Jack, after two years’ weary waiting. The 
grave problem of crime and its punishment had been settled by the 
formation of the efficient secret society known as the K. K. K. 
Thereafter rascals of every sort would be apt to give the commu- 
nity a wide berth for fear the hobgoblins of the order would over- 
take them and bring them to justice by means of a court speedily 
organized in the woods, while the innocent would suffer no ap- 
prehension of being done to death by an excited mob before 
inquiry could be made into the charges against them. 

So the talk went; but while a great majority of folk in the hill 
country thought they had settled a very grave problem, there 
were not wanting a few restless persons in their midst who hank- 
ered after still further reform. These insisted, and are still in- 
sisting, that all which could be expected of the K. K. K. — and a 
good deal more — might be accomplished through regular legal 
channels if the legislature would but amend the statute laws under 
which we live. These are days they say, of steam traffic, tele- 
graphs and telephones, and all business methods have been revo- 
lutionized to suit the times, but the car of justice creaks along in 
the same old ruts it followed when George the Third was king. 

At the South especially — insist the carpers above mentioned — 
the criminal statutes require to be remodeled so as to conform to 
the needs of the present generation. Here, as a consequence of the 
civil war, several millions of negroes have been lifted from servi- 
tude to freedom, and while a great majority of these have de- 
ported themselves well, many have become criminals and have 
displayed a tendency especially toward the commission of vile of- 
fenses against which every instinct of civilized man revolts. Hav- 
ing no longer any masters to control them, and being unable to 
control themselves, these outlaws are now dangerous foes 
of society and need to be dealt with in the most sum- 
mary manner to check their evil propensities. But the laws 
in most of the Southern States have not been changed 
to meet this changed condition of affairs. The courts, 
proceeding according to old methods, cannot be relied on to 
administer speedy justice, and speedy justice being essential, 
citizens rise up in cases of extreme provocation and seek to admin- 
ister it themselves. In so doing they occasionally make grievous 
mistakes, and they always set an example of lawless violence which 
the evil disposed in their midst are swift to follow. The law- 
makers should realize the serious problem they have to deal with 


351 


The Prompter Rings His Little Bell. 

and undertake to solve it in a practical way. In every county there 
should be some official authorized to make prompt investigation 
when an outrage was committed and to arrest suspected parties. 
These might have a hearing without delay before a o©unty judicial 
officer and an intelligent jury, free from excitement or bias. Suf- 
ficient time should be given to make the trial fair and complete, 
but a few days or a few weeks at farthest would suffice for this 
purpose. Alleged errors of law, arising in the progress of 
the trial, might be taken at once to the Supreme Court of the State, 
and that tribunal in such case should be required to suspend all 
civil business and dispose of these without delay. If a new trial 
was ordered it should be held at once before another jury of intel- 
ligent citizens whose only qualification should be that they were 
free from bias either for or against the prisoner, and could give 
him a fair trial. In two or three months at farthest the most hotly 
contested case could thus be disposed of and punishment openly 
imposed on the offender if he was adjudged guilty. Whenever 
in any community speedy and fair investigation could thus be had 
through the medium of the courts good citizens would rely on the 
law as the surest means of suppressing crime, and none but turbu- 
lent and disorderly spirits would encourage any attempt on the 
part of a mob to usurp the province of the courts. 

Thus, or in some such fashion, do a few malcontents in the Mar- 
rowbone Hills continue to prate, but most of their neighbors pooh- 
pooh the idea of effecting a radical reform in criminal procedure 
by means of change in the statute law. As well expect, say they, 
to alter the course of the moon round the earth as to divert the es- 
tablished judicial chariot from the beaten circuit it has followed for 
ages. They urge further that the old method of criminal pro- 
cedure has become now a fixed part of our civil system, and there 
is great doubt as to whether the body politic could survive the 
shock if one of its principal members was thus plucked up vio- 
lently by the roots. 

If the author could be heard to venture a suggestion in so 
weighty a controversy he would propose that something in the 
nature of a compromise be attempted by which needed reforms 
might be instituted and the present well-settled order of things 
preserved at the same time from serious shock. In the ancient 
and highly civilized empire of Japan they had until recently two 
separate and distinct governments for the people, each in opera- 
tion, and — as you may say — in full blast at one and the same time. 


352 


The K. K. K, 


By one of the governments — if the author understands the matter 
— affairs were conducted altogether according to time-honored 
precedent, and the administration of justice was hedged about with 
so many well-established rules and formulas that it was not possi- 
ble in any case to attain practical results although the worthy 
officials were always hammering away at one thing or another. 
They were the wisest men in all the country, selected for their deep 
knowledge of old laws and customs and their supposed ability to 
see further into a millstone than the common run of men. Yet, 
as has been said, they so mystified their brains poring over musty 
old books and endeavoring to construe the utterances of the an- 
cients, that they were unable to accomplish anything at all in the 
way of business, and in the course of many centuries it came to the 
point that nobody expected anything at all of them. In this condi- 
tion of affairs the Japanese, who are an exceedingly ingenious and 
resourceful people, instead of overthrowing their deeply revered 
and helpless government, set up another alongside of it, 

from which some little might be expected in the way of 

attaining results. They saw to it that the men chosen to 

administer this second government were practical fellows, 
not much learned in the wisdom of the ancients, but hav- 
ing pretty clear ideas as to the pressing needs of their 

own times. The officials selected under this plan speedily — 
to use a Japanese phrase — got a move on themselves. They en- 
deavored to dispatch business according to modern methods, and, 
remembering Lot’s wife — if they had ever heard tell of her — 
avoided the fatal habit of looking backward. The two plans — as 
the author has always understood — worked well and smoothly to- 
gether and for a long period of time to the entire satisfaction of 
the Japanese people. There was no friction and no conflict of 
jurisdiction between the two governments, as each was entirely 
separate and distinct from the other, and neither paid the slightest 
attention to the other. Even when the same matter came up be- 
fore them for consideration no trouble arose, for the later tribunal 
would usually have the case settled and off hand before it was 
called for hearing by the first ; and it not infrequently happened 
in criminal prosecutions that learned counselors in the justice 
halls of the old government would be pleading and interpleading 
and entering all sorts of dilatory motions in the case of some noted 
malefactor who had been beheaded by the new government a dozen 
or more years before. A plan which worked so well in Japan 


The Prompter Rings His Little Bell. 353 

would probably not be a total failure in Tennessee, and the author 
suggests that if nothing better can be thought of the dual, or Jap- 
anese, system of government might be tried here. And if the sug- 
gestion meets with any favor he would propose to those inclined 
to regard it kindly that they investigate closely the constitution 
and methods of the secret society known as the K. K. K. to see if 
some ideas cannot be gotten therefrom which would assist in the 
formation of a new and up-to-date criminal code, by virtue of 
which justice would be administered so expeditiously that no ex- 
cuse would remain anywhere for the exercise of mob law. 

Asking pardon for this somewhat wearisome digression the 
author begs leave now to make brief mention of some of the char- 
acters that have been brought before the reader in the preceding 
pages, and who, perhaps, now deserve further notice at his hands. 
As to the worthy old gentleman and his friend, Alabama Sam, who 
were left in the vicinity of Baker’s Station, the author knows but 
little more of their subsequent movements and their present where- 
abouts than does the reader himself. The morning after the stop- 
ping of the train on Paradise Ridge the Nashville papers gave a 
full account of the melee incidental thereto and the shrewd escape 
of the prisoner. Cross-eyed Jack, from both mob and sheriff. On 
the same day in the forenoon Mr. Olof Ankerstrom, who had been 
previously introduced by Lawyer Palaver, appeared at the coun- 
ter of the bank where the fee had been deposited and presented a 
check for the balance on hand, signed by both himself and the at- 
torney. As the money was deposited to their joint account, and 
Palaver had paid the old gentleman a high compliment when he 
introduced him to the cashier, the check was honored without 
question, and the old gentleman withdrew with thanks. Next day 
the whole truth as to the hanging having come out, and the old 
gntleman not having shown up at the office of his attorney. Pala- 
ver walked to the bank and sought to draw the entire fund on his 
individual check. He considered himself — as he explained to the 
cashier — ^legally entitled to this, as the case was ended, and his co- 
depositor — to the best of his knowledge, information and belief — 
had absconded. When informed that the old gentleman had drawn 
the entire amount — some three hundred and seventy-five 
dollars — on the preceding day, his remarks were highly in- 
teresting, but as they were not delivered under oath, or 
in view of immediate dissolution, I do not feel at lib- 
erty to repeat them. He claimed loudly that the bank had 


354 


The K. K. K. 


paid a forged check and would have to suffer in Consequence ; 
while the cashier with more moderation insisted that Pal- 
aver had introduced the old gentleman to the bank, had led the 
bank into the error of reposing confidence in him, and therefore 
Palaver must take the disastrous consequences resulting from his 
own rash act. The controversy finally drifted into a lawsuit be- 
twixt the lawyer and the bank, which — a very grave principle being 
involved — is hanging fire yet, and will probably occupy the atten- 
tion of the courts for many years to come. Meantime the old gen- 
tleman and his friend, Alabama Sam, have gone their ways to 
parts unknown, and whether now in the world or out of it the 
author of this faithful chronicle cannot say. 

Up in that benighted part of the world of which this narrative 
has been treating they have a custom of breaking loose into gen- 
eral hilarity about the Christmas time of the year. ’Tis a prac- 
tice handed down from their ancestors and most religiously ob- 
served by the present generation. On Thanksgiving Day turkeys 
will be devoured and the request of the president to treat the oc- 
casion as a holiday circumspectly obeyed. But they hold, these 
old-timey back-country folks do, that a divine ordinance is entitled 
to more consideration than a human ordinance, and that as the 
blessings of Christianity are incalculable and universally acknowl- 
edged when it comes to celebrating the birth of its Founder their 
joy should know no bounds. Consequently all business at this time 
of the year is suspended and the whole country — without regard 
to age, sex, color or previous condition of servitude — is given over 
to frolicking. There is plain fiddling — which in my judgment 
beats all the classic music that ever was heard — dancing — such as 
presumably would have delighted the heart of King David — and 
absorption in moderate quantities of spirituous, vinous and malt 
liquors — for which custom the imbibers have, or think they have, 
the high authority of St. Paul. Thus with a good week’s mirth 
do the dwellers in these benighted parts as a general rule see the 
old year out and the new year in. With Christmas gifts and 
kindly greetings, and renewed assurances of hearty good will 
among friends, and burial of old grudges bewixt those who have 
been at outs, they manage to lay in a stock of cheerfulness and 
brotherly love at this gracious season that lasts them far into the 
following year. 

On the particular Christmas following the exit of Cross-eyed 
Jack from the planet there were two weddings which made the 


The Prompter Rings His Little Bell. 355 

happy season even more enjoyable to the community at large than 
usual. One of these, as the astute reader has doubtless surmised, 
was the uniting in the holy bonds of wedlock of Mr. Bob Lee 
Templeton and Miss Marie — alias Polly — Habersham. The 
other, which befell only a night or two later, was the joining to- 
gether lawfully of our sober friends, Mr. Randolph Pearson and 
Miss Sue Bascombe. At each of these weddings there was a large 
attendance, though the former was decidedly the gayest and most 
stylish affair. The Major was resolved to have all of his friends 
present upon the occasion, and Mrs. Habersham and the maid, Ma- 
tilda, were resolved to have everything conducted in the most gen- 
teel fashion, and so it happened that the large house was full of 
people from bottom to top, and it was at the same time a decidedly 
swell affair. To say that Mr. Bob Lee Templeton did himself 
proud by his behaviour during the ceremony and that Miss Polly 
looked sweet enough to eat, is after all to say very little, because 
everybody in the least acquainted with them expected as much in 
advance. Toward the close of the entertainment the Major’s ut- 
terances on the state of the country became louder, more dicta- 
torial and less argumentative, from which it was inferred by such 
of his hearers as were in condition to judge that his liquor was 
getting the best of him. In reading such conclusion, however, I 
need not inform the reader that they were entirely mistaken; for 
whether the Major was unduly elated at having such a fine son-in- 
law as Mr. Bob Lee Templeton, or whatever else might have in- 
duced his noticeable conduct, I am ready to assert on my own re- 
sponsibility that it was not the stimulating fluid he had imbibed. 
Saint Peter upon one occasion had the same damaging charge 
brought against him and repelled the accusation — as all Bible 
readers will remember — by reminding his hearers that it was only 
nine o’clock in the morning, and such an allegation was therefore 
preposterous. This defense at the time seems to have been ad- 
judged satisfactory and sufficient, but I cannot help thinking that 
both in the case of the Apostle and Major Habersham, the high 
characters they bore in their respective communities would have 
been a more effectual reply to a scandalous impeachment than 
any special plea that could have been offered. 

The Pearson-Bascombe nuptials, while largely attended, were 
conducted in a more quiet way, and rumor even went to the length 
of asserting that there were two or three mourners present upon 
the occasion. One of these, I have no hesitation in saying, was 


The K. K. K. 


356 

Teddy McIntosh. Another, I am equally confident, was not ouf 
friend Slowboy, because, though invited, he did not grace the fes- 
tivities with his presence. Teddy did not look like a mourner, but 
being of a philosophical turn contented himself with the reflection 
that there were as good fish in the sea as ever were caught. He 
was heard to whisper to two or three of his friends during the 
evening, when he observed Pearson gazing fondly upon his 
bride, that that girl could twist anybody round her finger. I may 
observe in this connection that Miss Sue did so twist Pearson 
round her finger that he came in time to respect her opinion highly 
upon all subjects, and after fair trial proved himself to be, what all 
the neighborhood still regard him, a dutiful, affectionate, and 
provident husband. Mrs. Pearson seems to be quite fond of him, 
and advises all her girl friends, when they contemplate matrimony, 
not to confide their happiness into the keeping of any gay young 
fellow, but to hook on for life to a pokey old bachelor. 

I said just now that Solomon Slowboy was not present at the 
Pearson-Bascombe nuptials. I will go further and state to the 
reader that he was not heartbroken over the marriage of Miss 
Sue, but plucked up a spirit, and even bore with seeming equa- 
nimity the merciless guying of his legal friends on the subject. Not 
a great while afterward it became pretty generally understood that 
his mother had formed a design to espouse him to a damsel in his 
own county, who, the story went, after being duly consulted, had 
consented to the arrangement. The female in question was sharp- 
visaged and sharp-tongued, and several years the senior of her in- 
tended husband, but possessed in her own right a farm of a few 
hundred acres which Slowboy ’s mother thought could be made a 
desirable property if duly looked after. Matters were proceeding 
rapidly to a crisis, and Slowboy had been taken several times by 
his mother to call on the elect lady, when one of those untoward 
accidents occurred that will bob up occasionally in this world to 
diconcert the best laid schemes of mice and men. A young chit of 
a girl in the town, with meek, brown eyes and peachy cheeks, went 
a fishing for Slowboy and hooked him before ever his estimable 
parent knew she had designs upon him. Late one evening a mar- 
riage license was procured from the county clerk, and before an- 
other hour had passed, an obliging minister of the gospel had 
united the two so firmly that even an irate mother could not un- 
knit the bond. The lawyer and his bride are now living together 
quite happily, the old lady has been pacified and young Mrs. 


The Prompter Rings His Little Bell. 357 

Slowboy may be seen on nearly every fine evening pacing around 
the town on Martha Washington, looking as demure and free 
from guile as if she had never kidnapped a lawyer. 

For a good while after the desperate combat in the cavern Pete 
Kinchen and his dog were noted characters among the lads 
and four-footed beasts of the Marrowbone Hills. Young 
Kinchen again and again escorted parties of curious sightseers into 
the bowels of the earth and fought his battles over again on the 
very spot where he and de little ole white man had wrestled in 
pitch darkness for the mastery. Here against the wall stood 
Kinchen, deeming himself safe from discovery, when of a sudden 
the bare palm of the old gentleman was laid confidingly upon him. 
On this spot did he smite the old man valorously with his fists, 
around and around in this broad space did the two waltz in silence, 
and on this slippery piece of ground did Kinchen uptrip his ad- 
versary, Jineral Beauregard rendering valuable assistance at the 
moment by tugging with all his soul at the other leg. Pete 
Kinchen was not given to many words, but he was made to tell this 
tale so many times that he could begin at the very beginning and 
rehearse the thing straight on through to the end without ever a 
stop. 

As usual in such cases the public was not satisfied with the plain 
unvarnished tale delivered by Kinchen, but must needs supplement 
this with wild tales of the doings of robbers and outlaws in the 
cavern at other times and in days preceding the era of the horse- 
thieves who had lately evacuated the place. Hwas said that the 
famous highwayman, John A. Murrell, at one time had his head- 
quarters in the deep recesses of Crawfish Cave, and had buried 
some of his stolen treasure there. Others would have it that old 
Demonbrune, the adventurous Frenchman who ascended the Cum- 
berland River long in advance of the earliest white settlers, had 
made his dwelling here for a season and had left valuables behind 
which he wished to secrete from hostile savages. These tales 
being afloat, Crawfish Cave was ransacked as it had never been be- 
fore. Some parties took rations along and remained underground 
over night, digging, nosing about, overturning stones, trying to 
crawl into cracks so narrow that more than one of the adventurers 
had to be pulled out by his companions. All this, and much more, 
they did, but while rumors occasionally went abroad of rich 
“ finds,” nothing of great moment really was unearthed by the 
seekers. Undoubted evidences there were that other human beings 


The K. K. K. 


358 

had waded up Crawfish Creek long before Alabama Sam, Mr. 
Hardrider, and the old gentleman found the route, but they left no 
treasure behind, for the very excellent reason, no doubt, that they 
had none to leave. Some bones of a human skeleton were found, 
and near these were picked up an old rusty knife that had lain 
disused so long the blades could not be induced to open, and a few 
horn buttons that still defied the ravages of time. The cave 
dweller, therefore, who had shuffled off this mortal coil in a place 
so remote from the haunts of men was undoubtedly one of the 
white race, but why he had chosen to live and die in such a dark- 
some abode not even conjecture could determine. 

As the author of this faithful chronicle was journeying not many 
years ago to Nashville along what is called the Paradise Hill Dirt 
Pike, in a little broom sedge patch that skirted the highway he 
came unexpectedly upon Pete Kinchen and Jineral Beauregard. 
The lad had a consequential look about him, as of one who has ex- 
perienced surprising adventures, and the dog wore a shiny brass 
collar that did not completely hide an ugly scar on his neck. As 
he viewed them curiously in passing the author could not help re- 
marking to himself that he had known many great men swagger 
and give themselves airs whose claim to distinction was not so 
well founded as that of Pete Kinchen, and that many a soldier had 
received for gallant conduct in battle a medal not more faithfully 
earned than that which adorned the neck of Jineral Beauregard. 
He bowed respectfully — the author did — in passing, and went 
upon his way ; and from that good hour he has seen no more, and 
can tell nothing further, of the negro lad and his dog. 

As swallows fly round and round a chimney top at close of day, 
loth to leave the rare atmosphere in which they have disported, 
and sink altogether from the ken of the world, so do the creatures 
of the author’s imagination at the close of his story continue to 
circle about him, loth to leave the airy realm of fancy in which they 
have disported and part company with him and the actual world 
forever. But having no further excuse for stay he and they must 
go, and so he makes now his bow, bidding God bless all the kindly 
readers of his simple narrative and all the wise folk who will not 
condescend to read it, which two classes taken together — he does 
himself the honor to believe — must embrace a very considerable 
number of people. To the scornful and the generous he says a 
hearty good-by, and ventures in parting to express the hope that 
they will all journey peacefully hereafter along the highway of 


The Prompter Rings His Little Bell. 359 

life, experiencing no more vicissitudes than fall to the common 
lot of travelers, and reach in good time the confines of that coun- 
try whose laws — if common report be true — are so wisely planned 
and efficiently administered that its happy citizens feel no need of 
such an auxiliary organization as 


“ THE K. K. K.” 


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